


Creator, Creation

by princesskay



Series: Between The Lines [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Bottom Hannibal, Collars, Episode: s02e11 Ko No Mono, Fights, Jealousy, M/M, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:33:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6954805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal has manipulated Will just where he wants him, but Will may still surprise him yet. The scales of their power struggle tip as their feelings for each other evolve, and the possibility of fatherhood for Will enters the equation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hannibal woke up later than usual. Even before looking at the clock, he could tell by the slant of the sunlight past the curtains. He noted the time, 9:30, then turned his gaze to the other side of the bed. A burst of relief surged through his chest when he saw Will was still in the bed with him. He had a habit of running off, and not allowing Hannibal to savor the moment.

Will was staring at the ceiling, his hands clasped loosely on his stomach. The sheets laid around his waist, one hip exposed. Hannibal swallowed the morning dryness from his throat and shifted across the bed to plant a kiss on Will's cheek.

Will startled from his reverie, turning wide, blue eyes to Hannibal.

“I didn't mean to startle you.” Hannibal murmured, his voice raspy from sleep, “You looked so exquisite … like a painting.”

Will grunted a chuckle. “I was lost in thought.”

“About what?”

“This.” Will said, motioning to the bed.

“I would advise you not to over think it, but I'm sure you already have.”

“I've thought about it from every conceivable angle.” Will said, “Some angles look better than others.”

“Focus on the angle which looks best.” Hannibal said, cradling Will's cheek, “And kiss me.”

Will uttered a quiet moan as their lips met in a languid caress. He let Hannibal kiss him for several moments before tearing their mouths apart.

“I don't do this.” He whispered.

“Do what?” Hannibal asked, stroking his cheek.

“This … I don't sleep around. I don't-”

“You told me last night you hated me. And you loved me. I'd say this is much more than an affair.”

Will closed his eyes. A rosy blush spread across his cheeks, only making him appear more enticing to Hannibal's gaze. Hannibal bent to pepper his shoulder with kisses as Will groaned again.

“I can't believe I said that.”

“You told me your answer would remain the same if I asked in the morning.”

“I can't believe I admitted it.”

“So, it's true?” Hannibal asked, lifting his head to meet Will's pained gaze.

Will pursed his lips and rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Yes … Maybe … I don't know. I don't know anything for certain anymore.”

“I won't force an answer from you.” Hannibal said, “But perhaps you could answer a simpler question.”

“What's that?”

“Don't think about the future. I just want to know what you are going to do now, in this moment, in the next moments after that.”

“You want me to stay?”

“Of course.”

“I do have to go to work at some point. And don't you have to go to the office?”

“Yes. But perhaps you could stay for breakfast. I couldn't send you away after our rigorous evening without something in your belly.”

Will's smile reappeared. “I couldn't say no anyhow. I'm famished.”

“Good. I will start breakfast.”

Will caught Hannibal's arm before he could get up. “Wait.”

“Yes?”

“I think it's best if we're honest with each other.”

“Yes.”

Will drew in a deep breath and lifted clear, blue eyes to Hannibal's expectant gaze. “I can't fight these feelings anymore. I know it's kind of belated to say that now after … after last night, but I think I was still in a state of denial.”

“Letting your actions carry you under the auspices of justice?”

“Yes.”

“Justice did work to our mutual benefit.” Hannibal said with a smile, “I enjoyed the evening immensely.”

“You let me beat on you pretty hard, for the wrong reasons.” Will said, frowning, “Why?”

“I knew you needed to release your anger in a way that seemed just to you. The way you found just so happened to serve my own darker fantasies.”

“Well, my anger is released.” Will said with a heavy sigh, “Your evil plan worked.”

“They usually do.”

“I can't keep telling you that I don't see the world the way you do, or that violence and killing aren't a part of me. I think all of those lies got washed away with the anger. I have to deal with you, but more than that, I have to accept you. I've given up the delusion that trying to deny you would eventually yield the right results. All I can do now is damage control.”

“Damage control for yourself, or for collateral?”

“I'm more broken than I have ever been.” Will murmured, “That's not going to change. I have to protect the people around me.”

“I'm not interested in the people around you. I'm interested in you.”

“This isn't a fairy tale.” Will whispered, “We're not going to fall in love and ride off into the sunset. We're dangerous, both of us. We hurt the ones we love, and we hurt each other. The people around us are punished for our misdeeds. They're not done being punished because we've decided to stop hurting each other.”

“Like the perfect storm.” Hannibal said, “Two unstoppable forces merging to create devastating force.”

“Yes.” Will said, “People will get hurt. Innocent people.”

“No one is innocent.”

“People who don't deserve it.”

“You are guided by moral justifications, and righteous indignation. You derive joy from hurting bad people. That part of you will never change.”

“And the part of you that has the urge to kill will never change.”

“If you are expecting it to, you're terribly mistaken.”

“I'm not. That's exactly my point. It's in both of our natures to kill, and once … once two hawks start working together everyone else will get picked apart.”

“Hawks are solitary birds.”

Will shook his head, moisture gathering against his eyelids. “Not anymore.”

“You accept your feelings for me, but a relationship will come with stipulations. Is this what you're saying?”  
“I'm not saying anything.” Will said, “I'm stating the obvious. “You're not good for me. We're not good for each other. What little good there is between us will always be overshadowed by the bad. We seem to enjoy trading punches more than kisses; it's not healthy or sustainable.”

“I think if we tested the limits of sustainable, the result might surprise you.”

“I believe we could go on together, maybe for years.” Will said, “But I can't just think about myself. I have to think about the people that love me.”

“They will never love you as much as I do.”

Will stopped, his face freezing in an expression of shock.

“Last night, when you told me that you loved me, I did not respond. I wasn't sure that you meant it.” Hannibal said, “I wanted to be sure you were lucid and entirely aware of what you were saying. In the light of day, I can see you have no delusions about what you are feeling, or how strongly you feel them. I can say the words back to you without climbing out onto a limb that will break underneath me.”

Will blinked, and swallowed hard. “I .. I wasn't sure I meant it either.”

“But now?”

“Now I know it wasn't just a moment of passion.”

Hannibal smiled. He pushed onto his elbow and leaned over Will, one hand cradling his cheek as he bent down to kiss Will's upturned lips. Their mouths joined in a deep, slow kiss, tongue stroking back and forth in simmering passion.

When Hannibal drew back, he dragged his thumb over Will's wet, pink lower lip.

“Does that change your mind?”

“It changes it enough.”

Hannibal pressed another kiss to Will's mouth, and pulled Will into an embrace against his chest. “I couldn't stand it if you left me now.”

Will turned Hannibal's chin toward him, gazing briefly into his eyes, before joining their mouths in another kiss. He closed his eyes and let the kiss carry him away from logic and sensibility, away from the reality where betrayal was not so far away. It carried him down against the sheets, underneath the weight of Hannibal's body, underneath a caress that opened him for a long morning of slow burning lovemaking that dispelled he rest of his doubts.

 

~

 

The air was chilly with fresh snow when Will stepped out of Hannibal's house three hours later. After an hour of leisurely fucking, Hannibal had taken them to the shower, and then to the kitchen where he cooked a lavish breakfast. All of Will's physical needs were thoroughly sated.

As he stepped out of the house, a sense of disorientation washed over him, as if he were stepping out of a dream. He got into his car and pulled the door shut behind him with a great sigh. Tilting his head back against the head rest, he closed his eyes and quelled the wave of thoughts and emotions Hannibal's touch had held at bay.

When he opened his eyes, he caught a glimpse of his wide-eyed expression in the rear view mirror. He didn't recognize himself for the person he had once understood himself to be. Even plagued by encephalitis and hallucinations, he'd always been certain of his own moral compass. Like Alice in Wonderland, he'd fallen down a deep, dark hole to a phantasmagoria of sex and shades of a gray. He didn't know what was real, much less what was right, any longer.

He groped in his pocket for a cellphone, searching for a handle on reality. When the screen lit up, he saw he had missed calls from Jack.

He called back as he pulled out onto the road.

The phone rang three times before Jack picked up. “Hello?”

“Hi, Jack. It's Will.”

“I tried to call you last night.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“Are you okay? You don't sound good.”

“I'm fine. What's up?”

“Just wanted to make sure everything was okay. And to let you know that we have Freddie settled into a secure location. Did Hannibal swallow your story?”

_He swallowed more than that._

Will cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. I think so.”

“Good, good …. You sure you're okay, Will? Clear-headed?”

“Yes. I'm good.”

“I know we're putting you through a lot.”

“Well, it was my idea so ...”

“Okay. Well, if anything changes, let me know.”

“I will.”

Will hung up and tossed the phone into the passenger's seat.

What Jack didn't know was that everything had already changed. Everything was different now; Will had no delusions about his feelings for Hannibal. They were there, set in stone on the parts of his brain where memory never washed away. There was no going back, just going forward to a violent end Will could already predict. He couldn't hold on to this, and yet he had to. It was a brief, brilliant moment like a shooting star, the life gone while the light still burned into infinity. What they left in their wake would live longer and do much more damage than fleeting moments of union could ever hope to do, but in those few seconds of bright, pulsating aliveness, Will found a peace that couldn't be matched.

 

~

 

Hannibal phoned Will that afternoon, just as Will was stepping out of the FBI headquarters in Quantico.

Will noted the caller ID, and drew in a deep breath before answering. “Hello.”

“Hello, Will. Is this a good time?”

“Yes, I'm just leaving work.”

“You haven't left my mind for a minute today.”

Will flushed hot despite the winter wind driving cold against his cheeks. He glanced around the parking lot, as if expecting someone's chiding eyes to be on him. The lot was empty except for the cars and the howl of the wind; he was alone with his shame.

“I have to confess, I've been similarly tormented.” Will said.

“I hope, then, that you'll join me for dinner tonight.”

Will didn't reply as he climbed into his car and pulled the door shut behind him. His breath fogged in the air as roiling thoughts distracted him from starting the engine.

“Will?”

“Um, yes … I suppose I can.”

“Good. I have something special planned.”

“For dinner, or the evening?”

Hannibal's breathed rustled through the static on the line. “I'll prepare dinner, and perhaps, I'll leave the rest of the evening to you.”

Will swallowed hard as a flash of memory from the previous evening invaded his mind.

“Okay.” He whispered.

There was a pause before Hannibal echoed. “Okay.”

“Okay, I guess I'll see you tonight, then.”

“Come at your leisure, but dinner should be ready by six.” Hannibal said, “I look forward to your arrival.”

“Okay.”

Static hissed in Will's ear and he stammered to finish the conversation, “Right, um, yes. I'll see you. Bye.”

He hung up abruptly and tossed the phone away from him into the passenger's seat. He suppressed a groan and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. Sucking deep breaths past his lips, he controlled the flow of need surging from the memories and into his bloodstream. He'd found his inner balance of power last night when he'd taken Hannibal to the bedroom for recompense of his crimes; he had to find that balance again. Hannibal would expect nothing less.

 

~

 

Hannibal prepared ortolans out of nostalgia for his boyhood memory of power from the experience of swallowing the bird, and out of a desire to glean the same reaction from Will. He was pleased when Will gave little argument toward eating the endangered songbird.

It was a strange reaction of humanity to find more mercy in their hearts for a tiny, helpless bird than their savage brothers. Even Will's murder of Freddie Lounds might not have stopped him from cringing at the thought of killing off yet another of the rare ortolans, but Will responded with satisfaction and the gleam of power in his eyes when the delicate bones snapped under his teeth.

It was the first step in a successful night.

Hannibal brought out dinner after they had finished the ortolans. When they both had servings before them, Hannibal sat down and took his glass of wine to his lips.

“I wondered if you might decline my offer for dinner tonight.”

“Why would I do that?” Will asked, taking a bite of meat.

“You sounded uncertain.”

“I'm certain.”

Hannibal smiled as he carved into rare cooked flesh. The meat melted against his tongue as he gazed across the table at Will.

“I can't help but feel we've reached a turning point.” Hannibal said.

“We can't ignore the constant shifting of the world.” Will said, with a tilt of his head, “I have no desire to be blind to what sea changes have occurred between us.”

“Then you fully accept who you are?”

“What I am.” Will said, leaning forward to gaze into Hannibal's are, “What we are.”

“What we are to each other?”

Hannibal took a sip of his wine, keeping his gaze on Will over the rim of the glass. Will turned his eyes to his plate as he carved away bite-sized pieces of meat. His lips gathered around the tip of the fork, swallowing meat and drops of blood past his tongue.

“What do you think you are?” Will asked, “To me?”

“I've entertained this notion for a long time, I confess.” Hannibal said, “We were first only doctor and patient, and then friends, but I always longed for something deeper.”

“Careful. They might say we're in love.”

Hannibal's mouth curled in an amused smile, “If they saw what you did to me last night, they might say we are in hatred.”

“There's a fine line.”

“The line between love and hate can blur in an instant. Which side do you stand on, tonight?”

“I'm standing directly on the line. I can't be sure which side I'll turn to as the evening goes on.”

“Then I must do my best to persuade you which side to lean toward.”

“How will you do that?”

“There's a brighter, better side to every coin.” Hannibal said, “I can show you that side, since you've already thoroughly explored the other.”

Will set his fork down and joined his fingertips in front of him. His eyes cut through candlelight and pretense to skewer into Hannibal's gaze. “You don't want me to hurt you again.”

“That depends on your definition of hurt.”

“There lies another blurred line.” Will said, “The one between pain and pleasure.”

“All pain is pleasure, but not all pleasure is pain.”

“I showed you more than enough of both.”

“Enough to know which parts you enjoyed the most.”

Will's tongue slid across his lower lip, causing Hannibal's breath to catch in the back of his throat.

“So,” Hannibal added, “Which parts will it be tonight?”

“Don't you want to find out in the moment as my desires and actions manifest?”

“Desires originate from the brain, from our mental conditioning, but they can be changed, actions delayed, by the circumstances they present themselves in. You are not free of manipulation, Will. Though you hold the power, it is through my submission alone that you hold it. That circumstance could change with my own manifestation of desire.”

“Then why don't you tell me what parts it will be tonight? Why leave it to me to decide?”

“I'm curious.” Hannibal whispered, “Curious what you will do. Curious about the difference between what you _wish_ to do, and what you _will_ do. Curious as to whether I can influence either one.”

Will clicked his tongue softly. “Curiosity killed the cat, don't you know?”

“Perhaps it will only punish this cat. You have no desire to kill me.”

“Not anymore.”

“Your desires are much more gray, than black and white, now.”

“Not so gray as I don't know what I want.”

“Then throw away the pretense.” Hannibal said, rising from his chair, “Tell me what it is that you want.”

He stepped around the edge of the table and approached Will with his hands hung loosely at his sides. No appearance of a threat, but a simple inquiry that demanded a reply.

Will slid his chair back from the table, and rose to greet him. Hannibal paused at the corner of the table, his eyes black in the candlelight. The shadows couldn't hide the swell of desire against his trousers, or the damp of eager sweat on his brow.

“What I want is unattainable.” Will whispered, “What I can have is a vestige of the appearance of control.”

“You look upon your own inadequacies unflinching.”

“My inadequacies are pushed into the light of day by your manipulation, your overwhelming adequateness.”

“I view us as equals. You should too.”

“But we're not. You still hold the power over me, the power to change my desires, as you said.”

“I manipulate you because I see the potential inside you.” Hannibal murmured, reaching out to rest a hand on Will's waist, “I push your inadequacies into the light of day so that you may overcome them, that you may evolve into something greater. I watch you grow and blossom under my guidance, and I let you learn over my willing flesh. The lesson isn't over. Dig deep within yourself and find the vision of what you think is unattainable, and make it come within your reach.”

“It's not that simple.”

“You did it when you killed Freddie Lounds. When you mounted a tribute to Randall Tier. You did it when you broke me beneath your fervor.”

Will swallowed hard as Hannibal pressed closer to him, trapping him against the edge of the table. Their bodies met, heat and hardness chafing. Hannibal clutched Will's chin and dragged his face up until their eyes met in a clash of opposing forces.

“Don't you want to feel that power again?” Hannibal whispered.

“You want me to break you beneath my fervor again?”

“I want you to see yourself, your true, godlike self, Will. I want you to attain it, and accept it. Claim it as your own.”

“At the price of your skin?”

“It is the price of laying bare your mind to me.”

Will let out a shallow, wavering breath as Hannibal slipped his fingers into the hair at his nape and dragged their mouths closer. Hot, needy breaths meshed in the air between them. Their eyes met over the slow creep of their lips, gazes taking over the battle with no need for words. Will grabbed onto Hannibal's lapels and pulled him down into a harsh kiss. Hannibal stumbled forward, catching himself against the edge of the table, and wrapping his fingers tighter around Will's hair.

Will groaned and bared his teeth to Hannibal's lips, pressing suppressed need and frustration into the exchange. Desire clawed low in his belly, a savage, primal beast that had grown inside him despite his every effort to push the sexual thoughts from his mind. It evolved despite his last misgivings, and now it took over, wrapping his fingers around Hannibal's throat and pushing them away from the trap against the table.

They reeled back, hands clutching onto each other as they left the support of the table. Hannibal moaned as Will squeezed his throat and reached down to find the prominent form of his erection. He wrapped his fingers around cloth and hardened flesh, giving a harsh pull that made Hannibal surrender to him with a fragile moan.

Their lips broke apart. Hannibal leaned his forehead against Will's shoulder, breathing in shaky whimpers that followed each tug of Will's hand. Will wound his fingers into Hannibal's hair, slowly curling his hand into a fist until Hannibal's scalp pulled tight against his knuckles and he had no choice but to lift his head to the pull of Will's hand. His eyelids were heavy, pupils huge and glassy with need, when their gazes touched.

“You have awakened something inside me.” Will whispered, “It's a two-headed beast, each head with it's own purpose.”

Hannibal swallowed back a groan when Will's hand squeezed tighter around his throbbing cock.

“Even now it coils around your mind.” Hannibal said, hoarsely, “Flexing against the soft tissue, and taking control.”

“One head sinking it's teeth into my brain.” Will said.

“The other?”

“Poised and waiting for a kill.”

“Tonight is not for a kill.”

“No, tonight is for only one head of the beast. The head flowing with venom of desire and violence.”

“Let it take control. Satisfaction is guaranteed.”

Will released Hannibal's cock and pushed him against the wall. Hannibal's mouth twisted into a smile as Will pulled at his belt and zipper, and rent his pants down to his knees. His cock throbbed hard against the fabric of his boxers, catching Will's gaze for brief moments, before he did away with that barrier as well.

Hannibal lifted his hands to shoulder level, and cast Will a coy gaze. Will's eyes perused him for brief seconds, just long enough to take in the engorged state of his cock, and tremble in his thighs. His gaze came to rest on Hannibal's, speaking in a silent flow of desire that would have been mangled by an attempt at verbal description. He touched Hannibal's cock gently, a soft brush of his fingertips down the throbbing length, but it was enough to make Hannibal's eyes squeeze shut against the hot rush of pleasure.

“Ready to come and the wine has barely had time to settle.” Will murmured, dragging his thumb across the swollen head and tender foreskin.

“What will you do about that?”

Will turned Hannibal around, brusquely pressing his face into the wall, and pinning him there with a hand wrapped around his hair. Hannibal tensed as Will drew his fingertips over the bruises and welts marking his skin from the previous evening. The flesh was a tapestry of purple and pink, raw in some places, broken in others, tender with abrasions of just punishment.

“It must be so tender.” Will murmured against Hannibal's ear, “Does it hurt when I touch you?”

There was a beat of silence before Hannibal gave a choked reply. “Yes.”

Will's fingertips departed for brief seconds before striking out abruptly. His palm cracked across the sensitive, raw skin, leaving fresh pink on top of dark bruising. Hannibal gave a low cry, trapped against the clench of his lips, and lurched against the wall.

“That must sting terribly.” Will said, pleasure pressing into each enunciation.

Hannibal's tongue darted across his lips. His eyes darted to the side, searching for Will's, blinking rapidly in expectation of another strike.

“Ask me not to do it again.” Will said, dragging a thumb across the fresh flush of pink, “I know you want to.”

“You want me to beg.”

“You're already begging. I just can't hear it.”

“I don't beg.” Hannibal said, “I can take every manifestation of your desires, Will.”

“I don't except you to.”

“But I will.”

Will took a step back, releasing Hannibal's hair, and leaving him leaning against the wall, trembling. Hannibal turned to look over his shoulder at Will, confusion apparent in his gaze.

“Go to the bedroom.” Will said.

Hannibal lifted his chin. He gathered his pants around his waist, and his dignity to his gait as he walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the bedroom. When he was gone, Will snatched a wine glass from the table and took a deep swallow. It was all the more liquid courage he needed to face what lay beyond in the dark hours of the night.

He straightened, pressing a reassurance into his own mind, before he followed Hannibal's steps to the bedroom.

He slipped into the bedroom to find Hannibal seated on the edge of the bed, removing his tie and shirt. He paused when Will entered, but quickly averted his eyes to continue working his cuff links open.

Will crossed the room, stopping just a foot in front of Hannibal.

“Look at me.”

Hannibal's fingers tugged at the cuff link a moment longer before he lifted a ginger gaze to Will's.

“You expected me to come here tonight, and give you the same treatment as last night.” Will said, “You predicted it from your astute observations.”

“Yes.”

“You forget, I know you almost as well as you know me.”

“Do you?”

“It's not pain you fear, Hannibal. I could pin you to this bed for hours and torture you with all manner of different painful devices, and you would take it because you've conditioned yourself not to react to physical pain.”

“But I do feel it.”

“You do, but it's not what you fear … Indignity is what you fear.”

“What could be more indignant than enduring your punishment?”

“A lot of things, I'm sure; but tonight, the most humiliating thing of all for you would be to imagine a scenario where I don't hurt you, where I don't indulge in my desire for violence.”

Hannibal's eyes flickered away from Will's, just long enough for Will to confirm to himself what he was saying.

“You've brought me here through manipulation, through lies, and masterful puppetry. Stringing me along with every intention of creating me into your ideal image of a predator … Never once expecting something human to come out of your creation.”

“What do you find human about the violence you perpetuated against-”

Will pressed his fingertip against Hannibal's lips, halting the reasoning. Hannibal blinked, and averted his gaze as it grew glossy and soft.

“The humanity is not in the violence.” Will whispered, “It's in the mercy I choose.”

“Why would you choose to be merciful to me?”

“I do have power, Hannibal, just like you've told me. This time, I'm using that power to show you grace you don't deserve. Why? Why – because, after all this time, after all the pain, and heartbreak, and violence, and humiliation, I've realized I can't find you down any of those paths. I keep looking in every dark corner of you – the real you – and all I find is a mirage of you, another layer of a well built, well kept facade.”

Hannibal's face began to turn away, but Will caught his jaw. He turned Hannibal's face up toward him, pressing his gaze into Hannibal's wide, glossy eyes and the flush on his cheeks.

“You can deal with the violence, and the pain.” Will said, “What you can't accept is that I want more from you than those things can offer me. You should have paid closer attention when you were crafting your beast, Dr. Frankenstein. Your monster woke up, and it learned how to feel.”

Hannibal pulled his chin from Will's clutch and broke away from the bed. His shoulder glanced off of Will's as he rushed past him, stopping just short of the door. Will turned to watch the shape of his shoulders grow taut against an uncontrollable quiver. The sound of a thick swallow and a sniff touched Will's ears like a miracle in response to a prayer.

“You don't know what you're saying.” Hannibal whispered, his voice hoarse and choked.

“I am self-aware, Hannibal. Finally, I know what these feelings are. You can't tell me I don't know what I'm doing when you are the one who pushed me to accept my true self.”

“This is not your true self.” Hannibal said, “This is a delusion, a product of your imagination.”

“No.” Will said, his tone verging on a shout.

He marched across the room and grabbed Hannibal by the shoulder to pull him around. Their eyes clashed, and for a moment, Will's confidence waned at the gleam of tears in Hannibal's eyes.

“I don't want your mercy.” Hannibal whispered, harshly, “And you don't want it either, Will. I know what you want, and it has nothing to do with undeserving grace.”

“You say God kills all the time, and he loves it.” Will said, “But you forget the side of God that forgives and shows mercy.”

“Violence will always outlast mercy.”

“Not when it's in my hands. Not tonight. You told me that the just part of me would never change, that I would always want to hurt bad people because I know it's righteous. I have hurt you, Hannibal; I have punished you. I enjoyed it, yes, but now, I forgive you.”

Hannibal turned his head to meet the swipe of his fingertips against a stray tear. He blinked the moisture from his eyes, and clenched his jaw against the emotion which had unfettered itself.

“Go back to the bed.” Will ordered.

“What mercy can you show me if I refuse it?”

“Undeserved mercy goes to the worst of sinners, whether they want it or not. All they have to do is open their eyes.”

“My eyes are open. I do not see a merciful god in you.”

“I'm standing right in front of you.”

Hannibal gave a low sigh. “I must have been unforgivably negligent to not see this possibility in the myriad of choices that lay ahead of you.”

“My emotions aren't linear. They don't follow one, narrow path. They find new branches in the river to flow along, and create new possibilities from the lives they've lived behind me. It's unpredictable. I didn't see this possibility until tonight either; I'm as surprised with myself as you are.”

“You can't give your heart to a monster. It could be crushed.”

“I'll take my chances.”

“You are determined, then.”

“Yes. You can't change my mind. You can't manipulate me this time, Hannibal.”

“How do I know you're not manipulating me?”

“Do you see a lie in my eyes?” Will asked, putting his hand on Hannibal's cheek. Their gazes met, and Hannibal searched him with dark, thorough eyes.

“I see fragile honesty.” Hannibal whispered, “A delicate blossom growing from the sand, unaware that it will be crushed in the next storm.”

“Maybe I'm stronger than you think.”

Hannibal didn't answer, and Will seized the moment to press an ardent, but tender kiss against Hannibal's lips. Hannibal stood rigid against him for several moments as Will's lips caressed his, but his hands rose to touch carefully against Will's waist, tender like Will would break beneath his grasp.

Will pressed his tongue into the kiss, finding little resistance to the caress. Hannibal's mouth turned lax, and then responsive, his tongue rising to meet the stroke of Will's tongue. Will wrapped his arm around Hannibal's waist, dragging him closer, while the other reached up to clutch the back of Hannibal's neck to him.

The kiss turned passionate and sloppy, saliva smeared across their mouths, tongues and teeth colliding in a surge of need. Will dragged his mouth from Hannibal's to sample his jaw and throat, where the veins pulsed rapid and hot. His tongue suckled across tender skin, drawing quiet moan from Hannibal's mouth. His hands clutched across Will's chest, breaking them apart just as the need began to reach it's apex.

“You make me throw all caution to the wind.” He panted, “I will stay.”

Will smiled. “You never had any choice.”

He grabbed Hannibal's wrist and lead him back to the bed. Pushing Hannibal down to the mattress, he stripped out of his clothes and threw them into a heap of tangled material on the floor. Hannibal unfastened the last cuff link, and discarded his shirt just as Will straddled him, shoving him into his back across the bed.

Their lips clashed again, picking up the point of frothing need they had left off at, and escalating into a wet, moaning exchange of that barely resembled a kiss. Hannibal's hands fondled down Will's body to find his cock hard against his belly. He stroked the throbbing erection for a long, arousing moment before gathering his own cock flush against Will's shaft. Will threw his head back in a low growl as Hannibal's longer fingers curled around them both, massaging aching skin against aching skin.

Will braced his hands against Hannibal's chest, and watched, mesmerized, as their cocks joined under the finesse of Hannibal's caress.

“God …” Will moaned, his face twisting in pleasure, “Hannibal ….”

Hannibal reached up with his other hand to stroke Will's exposed throat and the swell of his chest. His fingertips caught around one nipple, tugging gently with the rhythm of his hand around their cocks.

“Oh, fuck, I need you.” Will panted, hips rutting eagerly against Hannibal's cock, “I need to fuck you.”

“You want to come.” Hannibal murmured, his hazy eyes dragging Will in like a spell.

“No, I want … want to fuck you.”

Hannibal's hand dragged faster, massaging back and forth over the head of Will's cock, while his own cock rubbed against the shaft. The friction ignited an ache and a wave of tingles through Will's body, and his whole body clenched in white-hot need. He gasped, his arms trembling and nearly buckling under the pleasure bearing down on him.

“You've spent all day thinking of this moment.” Hannibal whispered, “Growing erect at the very thought of my lips on yours ...”

“Yes ...” Will moaned.

“Refraining from touching yourself. Waiting for this moment.”

“Oh, yes ...”

“Hard all day, thinking of me.”

“I couldn't help it ...”

“Now you can. Come now, Will. Show me how much you need it.”

Will's moan reached a fever pitch as Hannibal's hand stroked him faster, harder, pushing the lurking pleasure to the very brink. Will's lurching hips grew stiff, and his face twisted in pleasure as the orgasm burst into long, hard spasms inside him. Pleasure rocketed through him, exploding white behind his eyelids, sending wave after wave of ecstasy through his body. He felt the rush of warm, wet release over the tip of his cock, felt it gather between Hannibal's fingers and between their grinding cocks. Under the slick semen, their cocks slid against one another without friction, teasing Will's sensitized cock with unrelenting pressure and wet, velvet texture.

His trembling arms buckled, and he fell to his elbows over Hannibal. Their faces inches apart, Will witnessed the tiny shifts in Hannibal's expression as the caress of his hand and Will's gushing release brought him to his own moment of ecstasy. Another hot wave of moisture spilled across their cocks, creating a wet, sticky mess between them as their fervent pleasure came to an end.

Will forced himself upright astride Hannibal's lap. His mouth fell open in a quiet whisper as he looked down to see their cocks going down against each other, covered in milky moisture. Hannibal's hand rested against his hip, fingers dripping with both of their cum. His eyelids rested heavy with pleasure, and his mouth curled when Will met his gaze agape.

“That … that wasn't what I had planned.” Will whispered.

“But you enjoyed it.”

“Of course.”

“You'll be here until sunrise.” Hannibal said, “There's plenty more time for you to regain your strength and find your way inside me.”

Will climbed off of Hannibal's lap and steadied himself on the floor. He walked to the bathroom and cleaned himself off. He caught a glimpse of his flushed expression in the mirror, and looked away a chuckle growing in his throat.

“What?”

Will looked up to see Hannibal leaning against the door frame.

“What is so amusing?” Hannibal asked.

Will pressed the rag into his hand. “I told you tonight wasn't about control, but here I am, wishing after it still.”

“Everyone wants to be in control.” Hannibal said, “It's a common delusion among every inhabitant of the world that we are in control of our own lives and destinies.”

“In reality, we're just along for the ride.”

“We make our calculated choices, but the consequences grow beyond us and behind us like the twisting branches and great roots of a tree.”

“We can't control other people's reactions to our decisions.”

“No. That would be true control, but it doesn't exist.”

“You tried to make it exist.”

“I never wanted to control you.” Hannibal said, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips, “I wanted to influence you.”

“You have.”

“Still, I find control is beyond me.”

Will fell silent as Hannibal cleaned up and washed the rag out in the sink. Hannibal smoothed the wet towel over the edge of the sink, his eyes peeking at Will via the mirror.

“I suggested we become sexually entangled as an extension of my interests in influencing you.” Hannibal said, “I wondered what I would have to do to find you in my bed after all I'd done to you. It was much easier than I expected.”

“My self-control isn't what it should be.”

“I miscalculated. I didn't think you would take it as far as you have.”

“But you wanted me to.”

“I wanted you to give yourself to me. I didn't expect you to take so much from me.”

“At some point, the creation always becomes greater than than the creator.”

Hannibal turned from the mirror to look directly into Will's eyes. “But the creator never stops striving to control the creation.”

“I am my own person. You can't control me.”

“But I wish to. With devastating force, I will.”

“Through violence?”

“I want this from you, Will.” Hannibal said, motioning between them, “I want what you are offering me, more deeply than you could ever imagine. And yet, I do not believe it will last. I do not believe how you are feeling this week, this day, this very moment will last.”

“You don't trust me?”

“I trust that you know yourself. Even in moments of doubt, your awareness, your individuality is a driving force behind your actions. You will come to yourself again, and find you've climbed in bed with the Devil.”

Will's frown deepened, and he turned his gaze from Hannibal's.

“You know I am right. Your reaction just now proves that I am right. Even in your confidence, in your determination, you question yourself and your actions.”

“If I don't stop, I won't have time to question myself.”

“But you will stop. You will stop and see with clear eyes. Then, I must do what I have to to to bring you back to me. In that moment is when you will realize the mistake you've made.”

“That moment isn't right now.” Will whispered, reaching out to grab Hannibal's hand, “Come back to bed with me.”

“You willingly ignore the dark path that lies ahead for this moment of gratification?”

“Call me weak.” Will said with a wry smile, “Call me whatever you want. But right now, in this moment, this is what I want.”

“Perhaps you will feel differently when I see you in therapy in the coming days.”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps when you walk out of this house in the morning and go back to the FBI and Jack, you will realize the life you would be leaving behind if you were to go with me.”

“Maybe.”

“Perhaps you'll remember all that I've done and throw aside undeserved mercy.”

“I'll never forget what you've done. But maybe I can forgive it.”

“Forgiveness is not the same as forgetting. The scars will be on your skin forever; you will be marked by your mistakes and mine. Pain is sewn into the scar tissue, and nothing can replace the sour memories of the hurt we've brought each other.”

“It's a two-way street. Don't you find it hard to forget _and_ forgive?”

“I bear my scars as threads sown astray in a tapestry, an error that only brings beauty to the whole when it is complete. You wear your scars as reminders of battles long gone, and each one weighs on you like stones around your neck. You cannot lay them aside and forget them, but you do learn to live with them in a way that changes you forever.”

“You're changing me.”

“In some ways I hadn't planned.”

“Are you telling me these things with the intention of driving me away?”

“I'm telling you, before you give yourself to this completely, what your life would be should you give in to me. We hurt each other, we forgive each other, then we continue to hurt each other.”

“Right now I don't want to hurt you. I want you to come back to bed with me.”

Will's fingers curled tighter around Hannibal's, drawing him out of the bathroom and back to the bed. Hannibal suppressed the smile that tugged at his lips.

“Very well.”

They crawled underneath the sheets, and laid together in silence for several minutes. Will pressed himself against Hannibal's back, and dragged his fingertips along the swell of his rib cage and the curve of his hip. Hannibal lay still, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he absorbed the caress into his skin.

They didn't speak of reality again as their bodies grew again to full strength and Will pressed his mouth against Hannibal's neck. The kisses lingered warm and wet, leaving a tingle in their wake. Hannibal tilted his head back to accommodate the path of Will's mouth to the skin stretched over throbbing artery. His teeth scraped gentle, but apparent, following the curve of Hannibal's jaw and nibbling around his earlobe. His hand traced the hard ridges and soft curves of Hannibal's body, finding it's way between his legs and up against his balls. Hannibal moaned quietly, legs falling open to the caress of Will's hand. The touch smoothed along the swell of his balls and back to find the taut pucker of his opening. Will's thumb dragged across the hole, drawing a shudder and moan from Hannibal when he pressed the tip of his thumb in dry.

Will's mouth broke away from Hannibal's neck as he turned over to snatch the lube from the bedside table. He threw back the covers and reached in with wet fingers, finding Hannibal's hips arching toward him. Hannibal rolled compliant onto his stomach, moaning his satisfaction, when Will's fingers pressed into him. Will's fingers pumped into him in a shallow, steady rhythm, opening him with tender efficiency. Hannibal bit down on the pillow as Will touched him, awakening need and teasing sensitive skin with his work rough fingers. His hips bucked against the caress that touched his prostate, and his moan created a muffled, strangled sound into the pillow.

Will held him down despite Hannibal's growing moans for Will to get inside him, stretching the preparation into sweet torture with three fingers penetrating him to the core. They stretched him, and caressed him for long moments, teasing against his prostate until his body surged and ached with need, only to be snatched back to the edge when Will's fingers withdrew for long, maddening moments. Then, they would delve back inside again, smoothing back the clench of muscle, working in until Will's last, little finger found room beside the others.

Hannibal growled and clawed at the pillow, his hips bucking away from the aching pressure of Will's hand. Will grasped his hip to pull him back, and impaled Hannibal's trembling, eager body on his fingers. He held Hannibal's hips upright as he ground down against the prostate, finding the tender spot swollen and sensitive to his touch. The pleasure of that caress was blinding, and Hannibal gasped as his body propelled toward climax that seemed inescapable until Will's fingers cruelly departed.

Hannibal pressed his forehead into the pillow, breathing back choked pleas that threatened to spill past his lips. His body trembled on the verge of imminent pleasure that suddenly seemed far away. His cock ached with fierce, burning need that he knew wouldn't be sated until Will decided to enter him.

Will added another dose of lube and slipped his fingers back inside. Hannibal flinched away from the touch, his body clenching against the fresh invasion. Still, his body lay open and ready for Will's hand, putting up the weakest bit of resistance before gaping to accept all four fingers once more.

Will murmured a soft praise as Hannibal's hips rose toward the caress of his fingers. Hannibal's thighs trembled as he worked his knees underneath himself, rocking back into the pressure of Will's hand. He muffled a moan into the pillow as the new angle afforded him a fresh wave of hot, aching pleasure at the mercy of Will's hand.

“You want my cock?” Will asked, his voice husky and aroused, “You want me inside you?”

Hannibal turned his mouth from the pillow to give a strangled reply. “Yes.”

“Say please.”

Hannibal bit his lower lip, and swallowed back a rebellious reply. Closing his eyes, he whispered, “Please.”

Will's fingers eased against him, then slowly slipped away, leaving him empty and aching. Hannibal turned his face against the pillow to catch a glimpse of his shoulder. Will rose to his knees over Hannibal's raised ass, one hand pumping lube over his hard cock. It gleamed deep pink just before he pushed the tip down against Hannibal's opening and thrust his way inside. They joined together, skin against skin, for several long moments before Will thrust into a deep, slow rhythm.

“Yes ...” Hannibal whispered, his voice scraped and thin with need.

Will gripped his hips, dragging Hannibal back against him as his hips propelled forward. Their skin met with a loud slap that jolted aroused moans from both of them. Hannibal back arched, fingers digging into the sheets to drag himself even an inch away from the unbearable pleasure of Will's cock buried to hilt inside him.

Will growled a sound of pleasure, and grabbed a handful of Hannibal's hair. He pulled Hannibal back against him, fist wrapped around his hair like reins on an animal being forced into submission. Hannibal grabbed onto the headboard with one hand, bracing himself against the stout wood, as Will's thrusts rocked his strength to shambles. His legs trembled with each thrust of Will's hips, threatening to drive him to mattress in a heap of shivering, aroused flesh.

Will panted pleasured exclamations between each slap of flesh against flesh. His right hand remained latched around Hannibal's hair, while the other stroked across Hannibal's back and hip, leaving the imprint of his touch like a brand wherever it went. It burned a caress across Hannibal's punished skin, gathering the bruised flesh with the accompaniment of Will's throaty hum of satisfaction. He'd given up fresh punishment, and now gave the pain with the pleasure of his cock slamming merciless into Hannibal's body, carrying the intention of leaving Hannibal sore inside and and out.

Will came to an abrupt halt, leaning over Hannibal and breathing in shallow bursts. He pulled out slowly, drawing a moan from Hannibal as his body was left empty and aching. Will leaned back, touching Hannibal's hip softly.   
“Turn over.” He said.

Hannibal sank to the sheets on his side, wincing as his body protested and ached. He rolled onto his back and dropped his head against the pillows. Will crawled over him, hands soft and reverent against his thighs as their bodies joined once more. Hannibal whispered a guttural praise as Will's cock, thick and dripping with eagerness for release, filled him.

Will rocked against him with sudden tenderness, one hand cradling Hannibal's hip, while the other quested up his chest and throat to hold his jaw. With a nudge, he lifted Hannibal's face toward his and their eyes met over the crackling flow of pleasure and need.

Hannibal blinked against emotion as adoration arrived in Will's eyes, bright and unmistakable as a sunrise. It reminded him of the moment he first stepped into the Norman Chapel as a young man and experienced a religious awakening that shook the entire foundation of his understanding of life and mortality. Now, the stage was set with soaked bed sheets and candlelight, and the sanctuary was his bed. He looked into Will's eyes as he looked into the eyes of Jesus peering down at his worshipers; as in that moment of defiance to God in the Italy, Hannibal accepted without a shadow of a doubt that Will had the power in his hands to destroy him. Hannibal had no fear of God, but, as he gazed into Will's consuming eyes, vast as a clear, blue ocean, he knew he would let Will take that power without question. No challenge against God or man; just surrender – sweet, intoxicating surrender.

 

~

 

Will woke to the next morning to find himself sprawled across the bed and the smell of breakfast cooking wafting past the open door. The other side of the bed was empty except for a black rose lying vertical on the pillow. A red ribbon tied in a lavish bow lay side by side with thorns on the long, slender stem.

Will rolled over and plucked the rose from the pillow. As he held it closer, he could see that it was a deep purple color rather than true black. It's fragrant, earthy smell filled his nostrils as he pressed it against his upper lip, enjoying the velvet texture of the petals on his skin.

A smile crossed his mouth when he heard the door behind him swing open all the way. He rolled over to see Hannibal entering the room. He was already dressed, with the exception of his jacket, and the apron around his waist was smeared with a bit of oil and egg.

“The black rose is a symbol of extreme and undying love, and also death.” Hannibal said. He sat down on the edge of the bed and put a hand on Will's hip, “Politically, it represents anarchy.”

“We're anarchists, you and I.” Will murmured, dragging his thumb across the edge of a flower petal, “Crafting our secret rebellions in blood and art.”

“I was considering the romantic symbolism when I placed it on the pillow.” Hannibal said, his mouth curling in a smile.

“What about the death part?” Will asked, turning coy eyes to Hannibal's affectionate gaze.

“I would be remiss if I did not honestly tell you I've thought of eating some part of you.”

“You _have_ eaten me.” Will chuckled.

“Literally.” Hannibal said.

Will sobered a bit. He turned twirled the flower between his fingers, watching the petals blur in motion. “What part of me would you have eaten … or are you still thinking about eating?”

“Brave boy.” Hannibal murmured, “I think I would eat your heart.”

Will dropped the flower, wincing as the stem slid down and a thorn cut into his thumb. Blood swelled from the tiny wound and trickled in a narrow stream down his thumb.

“Careful,” Hannibal said, taking Will's wounded hand between his own. “This kind of love can hurt.”

Will closed his eyes as Hannibal brought Will's thumb to his mouth and sucked the blood from his skin.

“It already does.” He whispered.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Will avoided Jack's gaze while Jimmy and Brian showed them the dental match on “Freddie's” body. He could barely concentrate on the work as his mind wandered into the details of the previous night.

He'd promised himself that he would keep the affair and he and Jack's plan separate. He'd thought he could handle splitting himself in half for two conflicting ideas he felt strongly about. One half had begun to take over the other; as he stood over the burned corpse, he wondered which side would win.

His phone began to ring just as he and Jack stepped out of the autopsy. Jack began to make a remark, but Will picked up the phone to avoid the conversation.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Will. It's Margot.”

Will's casual pace down the hallway came to a cold stop. After all that had happened in the last week, he had nearly forgotten about the ill-fated one night stand with the meatpacking heiress. Her tone was foreboding.

“Um … Margot, hello.”

“I'm having therapy with Dr. Lecter today.” Margot said, “I was hoping you could meet me there.”

“Why?”

“I have something I need to discuss with both you and Dr. Lecter.”

Will struggled to come up with a reply, and at last, choked out an agreement. He hung up, and stood there in the hallway of the FBI for a full minute, entirely sure he wasn't going to like what he would hear.

 

~

 

Margot's admission about her pregnancy felt like a tectonic shift of Will's foundation. The memories of his night with Hannibal scattered to the wind as the thought of being a father consumed his mind. A thought he had sought after with Abigail, not so long ago …

When Margot left the office, Will and Hannibal sat across from each other in utter silence.

Hannibal was the first to speak. “Margot is giving you a chance to be a father, even though she admits to using you for her purposes. That's kind of her.”

“I don't know how I feel about Margot.” Will said, “But I do know how I feel about a child.”

Hannibal considered the remark with a small frown. “I know how you've longed to be a father. Will this thought consume you now that it is tangible, within your grasp?”

“You mean, will I start to care more about being a father than being with you?”

Hannibal pursed his lips.

“Let's be blunt.” Will said, spreading his hands, “I know you don't want to appear desperate, but I think you are.”

“Desperation is not something I'm familiar with. I am in the habit of getting what I want.”

“You've gotten what you want out of me, I think.”

“You're more to me a bed partner, Will. I thought I'd made that apparent by now.”

“I have to think about this.” Will said, rising from the chair, “I have to take stock of what's important to me, and what my priorities are.”

Hannibal sat behind him in silence, but Will could hear the thoughts turning like cogs in a well-oiled machine behind his eyes. It didn't occur to Will what he might be planning.

 

~

 

The next time Will visited Hannibal's office, therapy fell by the wayside, replaced by intimate conversation over scotch, far away from the two, facing chairs meant for patient and doctor. Will felt the slightest tremor of doubt in his heart at Hannibal's mention of his sister, the first time he'd ever spoken Mischa's name to Will. The pitiful gleam of childlike loss in his eyes suggested a humanity beneath layers and layers of monstrous desires and appalling crimes.

Between their personal conversations and torrid lovemaking, Will felt as if he were glimpsing between the curtains, seeing only bits and pieces of another person entirely when Hannibal's guard was not raised to it's normal standards of an impenetrable, brick wall. The realization was another glide down the slippery slope, another mile of rail underneath this runaway train. He couldn't stop these feelings even if he had tried; the only thing he could do was hold on and hope to steer the damage of the inevitable crash away from the things he still held dear in life.

Giving Alana the gun that morning eased his fears by a margin, aware the weapon could only help her if she believed his warnings. Knowing part of him hoped she didn't. Knowing the last thing he wanted was for Alana to pull the trigger in Hannibal's direction.

At the conclusion of their hour, Will drained the last of his scotch and rose to leave.

“Going so soon?” Hannibal asked.

“Don't you have another patient?”

“Not tonight.”

“I'm beginning to think you strategically placed my appointment at the end of your schedule so you could have the rest of the night free with me.”

“Your appointment time has been the same since the beginning.” Hannibal said, concealing a smile as he arranged notebooks and pens in a neat row at the edge of the desk.

“My statement still stands.”

“To be quite honest, I positioned your appointment at the end of the day so that I could devote as much time to your well-being as I could.” Hannibal said, turning to look at Will with a soft gaze, “Jack Crawford himself came into this office and asked me to keep your mind from wandering into dark places. The task was a priority, even before I met you.”

“Did Jack tell you about me?”

“Some. He told me a bit how your gift works, and how you might respond to me intruding into your mind.”

“He told you how to crack my defenses?”

“No, Jack didn't know how to do that.”

“But you did.”

“You're not as complicated as you think.” Hannibal said with a smile.

“I suppose not.”

Hannibal cleared his throat, and motioned to the door. “Shall we?”

“Going to your place?” Will asked.

“You can come at your leisure, Will. I won't be offended if you don't.”

Will nibbled at his lower lip as Hannibal swung his overcoat over his shoulders and marched toward the door. He paused with his hand on the light switch, an inquisitive expression directed at Will.

“Coming?”

Will nodded. “Yes.”

He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and followed Hannibal out of the office. Hannibal switched the light off after him, and locked the door. The rest of the office was utterly quiet as they walked down the hallway, through the lobby, and to the front door.

Snow fell like scintillating bits of glass from an indigo sky. Wind sighed down the street, urging the mounds of snow at the curbs to drift in billows across the asphalt. The air tasted cold and sweet, not quite frozen, but with a chill that made Will's cheeks go rosy in moments. There was a strange familiarity about walking down the steps with Hannibal, and watching the snow fall in the stillness of the street. Calm and cool; no rush, no worries. The only way it could have been more right was if they had been hand in hand.

Hannibal put his hand on Will's elbow as they reached the sidewalk.

“I'll drive us.” He suggested.

“What about my car?”

“We will come back and get it tomorrow.”

Will was left standing on the sidewalk without a choice as Hannibal climbed into the driver's seat of his car and started the engine. He reached across the car and pushed the passenger's side door open for Will.

“Come.” He said, crooking his fingers.

Will glanced up and down the street, then gave in with a sigh. Climbing into the car, he grumbled, “Well, this is very domestic.”

“It's just a car ride.” Hannibal soothed, “There is no reason for us to drive both cars since we are going to the same place, and I will be returning here tomorrow morning.”

“I can't wear the same clothes to work tomorrow.”

“I'll send someone out to fetch you new clothes.”

“You're going to buy me clothes because you don't want to let me drive myself?”

“Why not? Your wardrobe could use a second opinion.”

Will grunted. He pinned his gaze to the snow mounds rising and falling outside the motion of the car.

 _One more time._ He promised himself. _One more time, and then I'll find a way to break it off._

“I can hear you thinking.” Hannibal remarked.

“I'm fine.”

“I told you, you did not have to go with me.”

“It's not that.” Will squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head. “It is a little bit, but I don't blame you.”

“You are still not entirely comfortable with this arrangement.”

“You act like you are.” Will said, “Then as soon as things get … personal, you don't want to talk about it anymore. Am I just sex to you?”

Hannibal's response came as a sharp bite. “No.”

“You told me about your sister of your own volition. Maybe I shouldn't pry, and you would tell me everything I want to know, but at this rate, that might take our whole lives.”

“You're right … You shouldn't pry. It's rude.”

Will cast a sharp glance at Hannibal's profile, reflected in blue lights of the dashboard. The shadows clung tight to the rigid planes, all razor blade edges and knife points of his defenses. Humanity escaped the flinty look of cold, empty determination; the man grieving for his sister was nowhere to be seen.

“I don't want to spend my whole life chasing after you.” Will murmured, “It's exhausting, trying to understand you.”

“Then don't try to understand me.”

“How can we have a relationship if I don't understand you.”

“You understand me more than you know, Will. You and I are just alike. The harder you try to rationalize who and what I am, the harder it will be to wrap your mind around the concept. The epiphanies will come to you when you abandon detached profiling and relax these anxieties and fears that grip you.”

“The way I profile isn't detached.”

“But you do know every term and analyses in the FBI handbook, don't you?”

“Yes.”

“You won't find what your looking for in between Bundy and Dahmer.”

“I haven't ever looked for you between precedents.” Will said, “You defy that type of categorization.”

“Where have you been looking for me?”

Will rested his head back against the seat and let his gaze run over the cold, frozen landscape beyond the movement of the car.

“Out there.” He whispered, “Out in the dark and the cold, in between the shadows and the nocturnal beasts. In a quiet stream ...”

“You look for me in your mind, where your imagination creates new tormentors in place of gaps you can't explain. Do you see yourself, reflected there in the stream?”

“I see a black face with antlers, a nightmare following me home.”

“I haven't followed you home. You follow me home and crawl into my bed. Willingly. Victoriously.”

“But it's all a part of the grand manipulation, isn't it?” Will asked, turning from the window to inspect Hannibal's profile, “Making me think I'm in control? Letting me believe I could ever break you?”

“It's a matter of perspective, whether you have broken me or not.”

“What's your perspective?”

“Being broken is a state of mind. An impression of all that's happened to us. We either let the scars control us, or grow us. What I have become because of you is not broken, but it is something entirely other than what I was before.”

“The scars I've left have grown something new?”

“Hasn't it grown something new in you?”

Hannibal turned his gaze from the road for an instant, and his eyes sank into Will's like arrows through his heart. The gaze swallowed him, jarring and entire, though it lasted only a second. He saw the reflection there, the glimpse of the antlers and ink black soul; but for that second, he saw it as a majestic creature that had evolved under pain of death and scar tissue, a creation of his own making.

“We're creating each other.” Will whispered, barely audible.

“Yes.” Hannibal said, softly. “Carnage becomes progress, entropy in reverse motions. The proverbial flower rising from the ashes.”

“Where someone else sees horror and destruction-”

“I see birth anew.”

Will scrubbed a hand over his face, the last fingers of fraying, moral constructs grabbing at his mind and skin before slipping away into the darkness of the night.

“Is this why you don't want my forgiveness?” Will asked, his throat taut and dry, “Because you want to keep hurting me? Changing me?”

“I don't want your forgiveness because you have not truly forgiven me. Because you freely admit you do not entirely understand me.”

“I can forgive without understanding.”

“How can you forgive an offense without knowing it's purpose? It's motivation?”

“I know why you hurt me.”

“Do you?”

Will's reply stopped at the back of his throat, frozen by the simple, destructive remark. It halted all of his conclusions and observations, rendering them dubious in his own eyes. His confidence crumbled like sediment under the ocean tide as Hannibal cast him another short, yet devastating glance.

“Maybe I should give up trying to understand you.” He sighed.

“Just as I told you. The sooner you stop trying, the sooner epiphany will come to you.”

Will gritted his teeth, and put a hand over his face. The frustration crawled up his chest, through his lungs, and into his blood, the same blood that flowed to fuel his need. The two conflicting desires met and clashed before simmering into a heap of unrecognizable emotion. The only thought that crossed his mind now was getting Hannibal back into the bedroom and setting his skin afire with new torments.

The drive lasted another agonizing ten minutes before Hannibal pulled into the driveway of his home. They stepped out of the car, and walked to the front door in silence, need roaring like a distant waterfall between them.

Cold air bit at Will's cheeks, but hardly stemmed the flow of heat to his core. Hannibal wiggled the key into the lock, admitting them inside. Will shuffled just behind him, stepping on Hannibal's heels on their way inside. Once the door slid shut behind them, Will grabbed him by the arm and pulled Hannibal around to face him.

Hannibal's gaze held his, daring, rebellious.

Will grabbed the lapels of Hannibal's coat and yanked it down his arms, letting the expensive wool garment fall to the floor. Hannibal didn't move except for a tiny flare of his nostrils. Will held their gaze for several long seconds, letting the tide of desire rise between them. The tension swelled like a balloon, until abruptly, Will pulled open the button of Hannibal's blazer and ripped the garment from his arms. The jacket flew from Will's grasp, sailing across the room and landing in a heap against the wall.

Hannibal's teeth tucked over his lower lip for mere seconds. He lifted his chin in defiance, giving Will a clear path to his throat. Will wrapped his fingers around the tie, pulling it out from underneath the vest, and yanking Hannibal toward him.

“I can see violence growing in your eyes.” Hannibal whispered, his breath hot and harsh across Will's cheeks, “Do you want to hurt me now?”  
“I give my all to you, and you reject it.” Will hissed, wrapping his fingers tighter around the tie, “I give you my understanding, my _forgiveness_ and you don't want it.”

“The answer is 'yes' then?”

“More than ever.”

Will looped his hand around the tie until his knuckles rested against Hannibal's throat, grazing his Adam's apple just enough to make him gag. The blood surged through swelling arteries, flushing his cheeks dusky and aroused, hot and breathless.

“Is this what you wanted?” Will asked. He reached between them, tugging open each button of the vest with decisive force as he spoke, “Normal, simple, _loving_ sex just isn't for you?”

“I want to see how far you will go.” Hannibal whispered, his voice choked by Will's grip on the tie, “I'm curious to see what will happen.”

“So it is a manipulation?”

Will wrenched the last button open and tore the vest from Hannibal's body, ripping seams in the fine fabric in his wrath.

“I wouldn't put in so much effort if I didn't enjoy your company.” Hannibal whispered, “I enjoy your company immensely, Will.”

“You think that makes me less angry?”

Hannibal shook his head, eyes glinting and moist with the pressure on his throat.

“You want me to hurt you, then.” Will whispered, reaching down to place a hand over Hannibal's erection. It rested heavy and thick against his palm, pulsing with need. The jolt of flesh was response enough.

Hannibal blinked, his eyelids heavy. His face glowed red, and his lips swelled moist and breathless. The only sound that came from his lips was a quiet wheeze for air.

Will released him with a shove, more disgusted than merciful. Hannibal stumbled backwards, catching himself against the edge of the table as he gasped for breath. He bent over, hiding his face as he rubbed at his throat.

Will shrugged out of his coat and threw it on the ground next to Hannibal's. His body throbbed hot with need despite the anger frothing through his veins. He wouldn't walk away, even if he wanted to.

“Undress.” Will ordered.

Hannibal slowly lifted his head, eyes reflecting dim light and a spark of desire.

“You're going to do everything I say.” Will said. He grabbing a handful of hair at the crown of Hannibal's head and pulled, forcing their eyes to meet. “You're going to because if you don't, I will leave; and that's the last thing you want.”

“I have no desire to be difficult.” Hannibal said, hoarsely, “You don't have to threaten me with your absence.”

“I went easy on you last time.” Will said, “I won't make that mistake again.”

Hannibal reached up to tug his tie loose. Will relinquished his hand as Hannibal pulled the tie over his head and began to open the buttons of his shirt. The silk material parted from his chest, exposing skin and causing the breath to catch in Will's throat. He watched, transfixed, as Hannibal stripped out of his shirt and moved on to his belt buckle. The belt snaked out of the loops, silver buckle gleaming in Hannibal's palm.

Will extended his hand. The command rested silent in his eyes, and for a moment, Hannibal stood still and defiant. Will narrowed his eyes, saying nothing but communicating a warning. Disobedience meant an end to this night.

Hannibal pursed his lips and pressed the belt into Will's hand. The buckle was warm from Hannibal's grasp, and Will wrapped his fingers tight around it until the sharp edges bit into his palm. The black leather strip dangled to the floor, swaying with both threatening and innocuous motion.

Hannibal unzipped, and dropped his pants to the floor, stepping out of them and forward to meet Will rigid stance.

“It doesn't have to be this way.” Will murmured.

“On the contrary, it's the only way it can be.”

“How far are you willing to let this go?” Will asked, “I've tried to kill you, I've dreamed about killing you – and now, you're putting your body in my complete control.”

“You don't want to kill me, Will. Now that you finally find me interesting.” Hannibal said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I still think about hurting you.”

“And you won't stop thinking about it. Not until you're satisfied with my suffering.”

“I'm giving you a chance to take it back.” Will said. He looped the belt around his hand, smoothing his fingers over the leather, then snapping it taut between his fists. “I'm giving you a chance before there's no going back.”

“Do you really want me to take it back?” Hannibal asked, “It sounds hollow, even as you say it.”

Will broke their gaze, and uttered a low sigh. “You do know me ...”

“Perhaps better than you know yourself.”

Will grabbed Hannibal's arm and shoved him toward the hallway leading to the bedroom. “Go, then.”

Hannibal lifted his chin, and walked with a dignified stride down the hallway. Will followed on his heels, palm wrapped sweaty and eager around the belt.

The dark shadows of the hallway admitted them to the world that lay beyond, past an invisible door that led to the promise of blood and satisfaction, pain and pleasure. Reality had no place where they were going; all thoughts of the plan to capture Hannibal, to stop the Chesapeake Ripper, fell behind as Will stepped into this other universe he and Hannibal had created.

The bedroom door opened like the gate of a secret garden; beyond was hazy colors of blue and silver, sheets pulled taut across the bed, a stage set for a theater of erotic tragedy. The actors entered, stage left, first Hannibal walking naked and proud to his self-fulfilling prophecy, and Will close behind, his hand wrapped in a fist around the mundane device he had chosen to bring into their kabuki dance.

Hannibal turned as he neared the bed, attention rapt on Will. His cock twitched between his thighs, filling with the first gushes of anticipation.

Will paused a yard in front of him, breathing hard against the need filling his chest and groin. Still fully clothed, he felt the pressure of his need against the agonizing starch of cotton. He grabbed at the buttons of his shirt, tugging them open with one hand while the belt occupied the other, and wrestling his way free of the material.

Hannibal took a cautious step forward, his eyes relating a request for permission as his hands reached for the fastenings of Will's pants. Will gave a nod; he hardly blinked, hardly breathed as Hannibal sank to his knees before him, his hands deft and graceful in the tedious task.

The material peeled from Will's heated skin, the pants in a quick motion, his boxers in a slower, seductive tug. Hannibal drew the fabric away from Will's cock in incremental movements until the waistband snapped free of his cock head and he rose upright and throbbing before Hannibal's luminescent eyes.

Will caught a handful of Hannibal's hair as Hannibal surged forward, his mouth open to Will's cock. He eased the motion with just enough force to implement his control, and let Hannibal's lips stretch around his cock in a strained, shallow gulp. Hannibal's eyes turned upward as Will's cock sank past his lips, his gaze spearing into Will's brain with the force of a bowed arrow. The gaze said everything, and saw everything; every tiny thought, every urge, every darkest dream and desire. He couldn't escape this pleasurable purgatory he had willingly flung himself into.

Hannibal's ardent suckling, coupled with his delighted moans, brought the desire to an apex; Will closed his eyes against the urge to spill across Hannibal's plush lips and blushing cheeks. Coming would ease the violent urges wrestling through his brain temporarily; after the rush and heat of climax had faded, he would open his eyes to fresh strength of will and desire.

He pulled back, his fist guiding Hannibal's mouth from his cock with brusque tug on the locks of hair tangled around his fingers. Hannibal gasped in a breath, his lips pursing wet and pink around empty air. His hands grasped at Will's thighs, but his willing participation didn't placate Will in the slightest.

Squeezing his fist around Hannibal's hair, he marched toward the bed with Hannibal in tow. Hannibal crawled on hands and knees after him, bruising skin against the carpet in Will's haste. He struggled to his get his feet underneath himself as Will dragged him up to the mattress, where smooth, elegant sheets waited to be bunched and stained by their passions. He fell across the bed, his fingers snagging on silky sheets to drag him to the center of the stage.

Will loomed over him, fingers wrapped in a bleached grip around the glinting, silver buckle and the pointed end of the leather. The belt hung in a threatening loop over Hannibal's prostrate body, swaying and ready to strike at Will's leisure.

“You're still bruised from last time.” Will murmured, gaze raking across the fading marks on Hannibal's skin, “This will hurt much worse.”

“I will ask you to stop if it's too much.”

“You don't sound confident that you will.”

“I'm confident I can take whatever you give me.”

“I'm confident this is going to hurt a lot; but no less confident that you deserve every bit of punishment I can deal out.”

Hannibal pulled one of the pillows from against the headboard and shifted it under his hips. His ass arched over the pillow in an erotic display of taut, round flesh, still marked by previous punishment. Will sucked in a sharp breath as Hannibal cast him a gaze that suggested he was ready; more than ready.

The presentation was impeccable; Will couldn't look away, not from the bruises that marked that flesh as his, nor the gleam of desire and submission in the dark, entrancing depths of Hannibal's eyes.

Will struck with the belt, using only a measure of his full strength; yet, the belt struck across Hannibal's skin with a satisfying crack that immediately raised a thick, pink welt across both ass cheeks. Hannibal moaned, his body clenching against the first sting of white-hot pain. Will swallowed hard, his gaze all but blurring in a surge of intoxicating pleasure. The sense of power he had found in their session with the paddle returned to him in sudden, complete form that registered in his chest with a drugged swell and flutter.

He lashed out again with his fist wrapped trembling around the ends of the belt. Pink swelled like cherry blossoms across fresh skin. Hannibal's back arched, and his fingers snared deeper into the sheets. The sound of his fragile moan worked into Will aching flesh; he felt himself grow painfully tight between his thighs, hot and throbbing to match the burning of Hannibal's skin.

Will waited, sucking in shallow breaths that barely eased the pounding of his heart and the deficit in his lungs. Silence rested like a hot, weighted blanket on top of them, and Hannibal wiggled in anticipation against the pillow. The crack of the belt, loud and ostentatious in the silence of the room, brought them both to the point of moaning again. Three strikes and Hannibal's skin glowed pink and raw already – primed for the lashes that were yet to come.

Will struck out again without waiting, breaking the rhythm he had followed and catching Hannibal's flesh just as he arched against the pillow. The upraised flesh took the blow full and hard across the underside, grazing the backs of his thighs with stinging needles of pain. Hannibal drew in a shuddering breath as he pressed his face into the sheets. They barely muffled the moan that escaped past his lips and reached Will's ears. The sound tracked heat and pleasure to the middle of Will's chest, impacting like a meteor dropping to earth. It was like gasoline to an already raging fire, flaring toward the sky with the threat of destructive power.

Will poised on hand on Hannibal's lower back, bending over Hannibal's splayed body with confidence anew. He doled out another four in quick succession, one crack of leather against skin after the other, growing louder and more eager with each one. Hannibal lurched beneath the blows, his back lined with clenched muscle and the sheen of exhilarated sweat, his backside glowing pink that deepened into inflamed red under Will's decisive passion.

Will came to an abrupt halt, and Hannibal moaned out one more time in reaction to a blow that was yet to come. He silenced as the punishment lapsed into Will's rhythmic breathing. Carefully lifting his face from the sheets, Hannibal peeked over his shoulder to see Will gazing down at the punished skin, his eyes alight with pleasure. Will touched him gently, a stroke of his thumb across the burning skin. Hannibal bit back a moan as even the slightest touch evoked fresh stinging.

“Good boy, taking your punishment so well.” Will murmured, his lips curving in a devilish smile.

Hannibal pursed his lips over an objection, but Will saw the glimmer of rebellion in his eyes.

“But still, ever so naughty.” Will added.

He squeezed suddenly at Hannibal's buttock, jarring a pained moan from Hannibal's stubborn mouth.

“If you can't take it like a good boy, I might have to put you back on your leash.”

Hannibal's nostrils flared, but he said nothing.

Will chuckled as he dragged the curve of the belt across Hannibal's skin, “I'll bring you to heel yet.”

Hannibal bit at his lower lip, then drew blood under the clench of his jaw as Will brought the belt down hard. The leather bit into his tender skin, sending the stinging pain awash through his body, but most noticeably to his cock, where he rested hard and aching against the pillow.

Will bore down with the belt, dancing the leather across skin, finding the places that hadn't been touched and planting the stinging there with reckoning force. Red bloomed across creamy skin, on the backdrop of blue bedding, all the colors melding and swimming before Will's eyes like some kind of Impressionist work of art. This painting moved, graceful writhing meeting with jagged lurching; and it spoke in ragged tones of pleasure and pain that blended into something else all together.

When Will brought the punishment to a pause again, his skin radiated with exhilarated heat and his head spun with dizzying desires that collided in his brain all at once. Hannibal's body lay before him, in a willing offering, red against pale, untouched skin – skin he wanted to mark with fingers, tongue, and release; anything to make something he had long viewed as unattainable his, and only his.

He threw belt aside, and moved with swift determination across the bed to reach the lube which was displayed with blatant suggestion on the nightstand. Condoms and lotion lay next to the lube, but what brought Will to a pause was the sight of the leash sitting coiled on the table beside the other necessities.

Will glanced back at Hannibal, a smile touching his lips. “Perhaps you're not so disobedient after all.”

Hannibal rolled over, wincing as his raw skin touched the sheets.

“I anticipate your needs.” He murmured, eyelashes fluttering and cheeks blushing; a perfectly coy expression Will knew was a mask for his benefit.

Will took the leash from the table and let uncoil to the floor. The buckle glinted, a minimal but appealing accessory to the stark black of the leather.

“You don't like having it on.” Will said, approaching the bed as he opened the collar.

“You like it.”

“It's only for my sake, then?”

“I'm your slave, aren't I?” Hannibal asked, sitting up to accept the collar around his neck, “You want my complete submission.”

Will gritted his teeth against a pleased smile as he buckled the collar taut around Hannibal's proffered throat. He slid his hand down the leash to the loop at the end and wrapped his fingers around it until the length of the leather snapped tight.

“You have it.” Hannibal said.

He allowed himself to pulled along until they were face to face, hot and needy breaths warming each others cheeks.

“I want you to accept the leash because you like it.” Will murmured, dragging his fingertips along Hannibal's jawline, “Because you _want_ to be dominated.”

Hannibal's throat worked against the collar, and his nostrils flared in a moment of inconspicuous distaste.

“You submit yourself to my needs because you want me.” Will said, “Because you know if you don't, I might leave you, and that's the last thing you want.”

“Would you?” Hannibal challenged, lifting his chin from Will's caress.

Will observed the defiant tilt of his chin, and the spark in his eyes. It pleased him more than he could admit because as much as he liked beating Hannibal into submission, he didn't want to see the confidence and brass he'd always been drawn to be diminished.

“Perhaps.” Will murmured.

“It's all about what you want, then.” Hannibal said. He reached between them to touch Will's cock, a soft, questioning caress that asked for Will to ravage him.

“What do _you_ want?” Will asked, giving the leash a tug.

“I want you.”

“You said that. What else?”

Hannibal's tongue darted across his lips, the only sign that he was anxious. His fingers curled tighter around Will's cock, grazing the tip with a stroke of his thumb.

“This.” He murmured, dropping his gaze to where Will's cock peeked from his fingers.

Will caught his chin, forcing him to look back up. Their eyes met, but Will couldn't penetrate the guarded look in Hannibal's eyes, beyond which he was certain another truth lay concealed. A truth Hannibal didn't want to tell, but Will was determined to drag out of him.

“Maybe I'll have to fuck it out of you.” Will said.

“You can certainly try.”

Will grimaced a smile. He motioned with a flick of his finger toward the sheets, already twisted under writhing response to punishment.

“Down.” Will said, “On your stomach.”

Hannibal turned, his fingers slipping with unabashed yearning from Will's cock. He draped himself over the pillow, displaying bright pink, beaten flesh, and pale thighs spread open wide. Will's tongue worked across his lower lip as he opened the lube and poured out a dose onto his fingers. Excitement urged his heart to pump fast and hard, swelling against his ribs like a bird defiant of it's cage. He'd played out their secret theater on this stage two times before as the dominant counterpart; and yet, most of his confidence was a well-crafted mask, a bravado fueled by passions and desires that didn't have time for fear.

Will steered his thoughts away from his doubts as he leaned over Hannibal's splayed body. His fingers sought out the puckered hole, smearing the lube in a lavish circle against the flesh. Hannibal trembled, but didn't make a sound. Will dragged his thumb across the opening, sliding the tip just inside to test the resistance. Muscles clenched taut against the small intrusion, and Hannibal's hips urged back against Will's minimal caress.

Will bit at his lower lip. Hannibal's hips rose to greet his touch, pink cheeks parting to give him a view of his fingers rubbing against the tight blossom of flesh. His cock jumped, molten blood gushing through the veins and stretching flesh to the aching point. Grasping Hannibal's hip, he sank his finger into the squeezing embrace. Hannibal's hips rolled against the pillow, away from the intrusion, and back again in earnest. Will could feel him trembling under his hand, taut and ready for the passion play that lay ahead.

Will pumped his hand in deep, gentle motions, working him open, but avoiding the tempting bud of his prostate. Hannibal was lurching and eager; the slightest touch could have him frothing with his release. Will didn't want Hannibal coming until his cock was buried to the hilt against that thoroughly punished ass.

Hannibal's knees worked open farther across the bed as Will pressed a second finger inside. A moan breached his lips, the first since the punishment had ended, the prelude to many more. He arched against the pillow, rutting into the fine silk and plush, feather stuffing while Will stretched him open with coarse, but practiced fingers.

“Ohhh ...” The moan scraped from Hannibal's throat, “Oh, Will.”

Will gave a taut smile, and grabbed the handle of the leash. He gave it a small tug, forcing Hannibal to lift his head from the sheets.

“I'll get a scream of you yet.” Will rasped.

He crowded in closer behind Hannibal, his thighs flush against Hannibal's, his hand crushed between their bodies. He dove down to kiss against Hannibal's shoulder and throat, finding the skin hot and sweet with perspiration. Hannibal stretched his neck open to the kiss. His jaw hung slack in pleasure, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration as Will's fingers pumped into him. Will reached around to grasp Hannibal's jaw, pulling Hannibal's head back against his shoulder. His mouth burned a hot path from Hannibal's neck and jaw, nipping at his earlobe and leaving burning friction in the wake of his stubble.

Hannibal whimpered, fingers flexing around the sheets. Will paused to insert a third finger, encountering a tremble clench of muscle before Hannibal's body willingly opened to him. The three plunged deep, to the knuckles, finding Hannibal's prostate for the first time. Hannibal gave a sharp cry that quickly descended into a moan muffled behind clenched teeth. His hips bucked, driving back against Will's hand in an eager search for a thorough massage against the tender spot.

Chuckling, Will withdrew his fingers.

“You'll come when I say you will.” He murmured.

Hannibal sank down against the sheets, breathing in subdued bursts. He cast a sharp glance over his shoulder, and Will smiled at the look of desperate need in his eyes.

Will ripped open a condom, and rolled it in place. He kept his gaze on the luscious curve of Hannibal's lower back, and the twin swells of his ass cheeks, a vision he'd want to keep fresh in his mind as long as he could.

Will smeared fresh lube over his cock, and guided the tip to Hannibal's pink, gleaming hole, sinking in with a slow, rocking thrust. Hannibal uttered a soft moan as Will penetrated him, and Will responded with a low growl of pleasure that came from deep in his chest where the pleasure started to swell. Hannibal's body clamped around him, a velvet, trembling embrace that shook Will's sense of control.

Will steadied himself over Hannibal's arched body, one hand planted in the creamy sheets, the other around Hannibal's hip. His eyes trained on the red, swollen globes of Hannibal's backside as he thrust in shallow, grinding pace. A moan hissed past his lips, and a tremble worked through his muscles.

His groin drew tight and ready to burst at an obscene speed. He'd spent most of his life thinking this kind of arousal and animal need was a work of fiction created by the producers of porn and unrealistic movies to lure obsessed people into pouring cash into the industry. But this moment was no fiction, no superfluous feat of film and acting. He was seized by a glorious surge of power and satisfaction, a godlike state of drugged pleasure; and when he gazed down at Hannibal below him, his beautiful, pale throat caught up in the harsh tug of the leash, he saw a niche counterpart to his throbbing member that couldn't be matched by anyone else.

He was never going to feel this way again. After tonight, it was over; and so he had to take what he could before the perfection of the moment melted away into the speeding, callous passage of time and unreliable memory.

Will wrapped his sweaty fist around the slim length of leash until it bit into his skin. Pulling Hannibal's head up, he watched the sharp curve of Hannibal's spine as he struggled to accommodate Will's eager demands. Hannibal pulled his knees under himself, thighs spread wide and trembling, as Will thrust into him at a driving pace that chipped away at his strength and endurance. A moan rose from his lips, thin as smoke and smoldering into Will's ears and brain. Longing clutched him like a fist around his balls, and he thrust harder against the burning, fleshy friction of Hannibal's skin, chasing after a pleasure that could ease the aching burn of need flaming in his body.

It was like a hunger he couldn't satisfy; even as he thrust with abandon against Hannibal's soft, trembling body, the pleasure eluded him. The terminus of this flagrant and dangerous relationship held the pleasure just beyond his grasp, a final attempt to lengthen the experience that haunted his dreams, but most of all, his waking moments when he laid in the dark trying to ebb the desire clutching him.

Sweating and panting, Will's punishing pace broke off into trembling pressure against Hannibal's ass. Hannibal gazed over his shoulder at Will, eyes full of mocking perception.

Will pulled on the leash, bringing Hannibal upright against him. Will's hard cock rested inside him as Hannibal's back came to rest against Will's chest. Will grabbed Hannibal's jaw, turning his face so that their eyes could meet of Hannibal's shoulder.

“I hope you're enjoying yourself.” Will murmured, “This is the last time I'm fucking you.”

“Is it, now?”

“Yes. After tonight, it's over.”

“Oh, Will,” Hannibal sighed, his voice holding a note of an arousing moan. He reached down to touch himself, dragging a slow hand up the length of his erection, “You're going to make it go down, talking like that.”

“I'm going to squeeze every last drop of cum out of you. Don't worry.” Will hissed.

He slapped Hannibal's hand away from his cock and seized the thick, throbbing flesh in his own hand. Hannibal moaned softly, his hips jolting back against Will's cock. Will ground his hips in a soft circle against Hannibal's ass, closing his eyes to enjoy the gentle friction between their bodies.

“I hope you enjoy this, then.” Hannibal moaned, “If you say it's over, it's over. I won't give myself to you again.”

Will chuckled. He thrust a bit harder, forcing Hannibal to fall forward on his hands and knees. He smoothed a hand down Hannibal's back and the curve of his ass, grasping the raw flesh that he had belted. Hannibal tilted his head back in throaty moan, and clamped tight around Will's cock.

“I think you would lick cum off my feet if it meant getting me in bed.” Will murmured.

“You don't place enough faith in my self-control-”

Hannibal's remark cut off as Will drew back to the tip and thrust back in, hard and deep. Hannibal arched forward, his words breaking off into a whimpering moan. Will dragged him back with a tug on the leash and a hand on Hannibal's hip, joining their bodies in a loud smack. His cock sought deep, past the clench of flesh to the sweet spot that waited, aching and swollen, for attention. He ground against the prostate, biting back a smile when Hannibal squirmed on his cock and uttered a high-pitched moan.

“I've seen your self-control.” Will whispered between grunts of pleasure, “It usually ends with you coming fast and hard all over yourself.”

Hannibal's moan was choked by the pull of the leash. He reached up with a trembling hand to support himself on the headboard. His knuckles blanched in a taut grip as Will's pace increased to a pounding rhythm. His knees dug into the mattress, trembling but valiantly holding him upright against Will's pummeling. The leash dug into his throat, tighter and tighter, cutting off oxygen. Black fringed at his vision, and his body tingled, awash with strange, half-lucid pleasure that was just as entwined with the leash around his neck as it was with Will's cock lodged deep in his body.

Will's pull on the leash eased just as the Hannibal's vision began to tunnel. Light and breath burst through his body. Oxygen surged into his lungs, rich and sweet, heightening every dulled sensation and setting his body afire with pleasure. The orgasm seized him without warning, striking him with devastating, consuming force. He came untouched, his body spasming and bucking against the constant swing of Will's hips. Cum spurted from the tip of his cock, dappling the expensive sheets and running down his thighs in thick, pearly gushes that stretched on for what felt like an eternity. In reality, the violent pleasure lasted mere moments, but for him, time suspended itself, shattered, came together, and shattered again in the blinding moments of erratic pleasure.

When he awoke from fuzzy aftermath, Will was trembling against him, body tangled up and struggling in the clutch of orgasm. These moments lasted fleeting seconds in comparison to his own religious experience, but they held no less fervor or enjoyment to him. They were snapshots in time that would live in undiluted magnificence in his memory palace, unchanged by Will's pendulum of emotions and conflicting decisions.

 

~

 

After they cleaned up, Will told Hannibal to stay in bed while he crept through the dark house to the kitchen. He found an ice pack in the freezer and wrapped it in a soft towel. When he returned to the bedroom, Hannibal was lying on his stomach, the sheets tangled around his legs. His backside was exposed, red and raw from the punishment Will had inflicted in his moments of anger and destructive desire.

Will swallowed hard and put his shoulders back before making his presence known. He circled the bed to the side where Hannibal lay, and sat down on the edge of the mattress.

“Here.” He murmured, laying the ice pack across the beaten flesh.

Hannibal winced, but didn't make a sound. He smiled, softly. “Thank you, Will.”

Will gazed down at his hands in his lap, confused by the dissonance between himself and his actions.

“Are you leaving me?” Hannibal asked in a whisper.

“I told you so.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes.”

Hannibal pulled the pillow tighter under himself and situated his chin against the edge. His eyes stared bleakly into the distance, perhaps focused on the grain in the wood of the headboard.

“When I gave you the black rose and told you it symbolized undying love, I wasn't speaking of someone else's experiences or literary symbolism.”

Will drew in a shallow, shuddering breath. “I know.”

“Why are you so intent on ending our relationship?” Hannibal asked, “I know you have never been so happy as you are when you're with me.”

“It's dangerous.” Will said, his throat constricting around the words, “I shouldn't feel this way ...”

“Shouldn't? Where does that concept come from, Will? Why do you adhere to joyless morals of this world when you could enter another world entirely with me?”

“We do live in this world, Hannibal.” Will said, “Whether it's gray, and boring, and joyless or not, we live in it. We are a part of it. I can't accept what is compromised in this world if go together into our own.”

“What holds you here?”

“I'm not so alone that I could walk away tomorrow and be sure no one would miss me ...”

“Are you speaking of Jack and Alana? Or perhaps your family of strays.”

“They're not just dogs. They're my friends, and my home.”

“They can come with us.”

Will chuckled, and shook his head. “You wouldn't last a day with them slobbering and climbing all over you.”

Hannibal gave a tilted smile that faded quickly. “I cannot change your mind, then.”

“We both know this won't last. It's smart to stop while we're ahead.”

“Where will you go from here? Where will you find such acceptance and satisfaction?”

“In case you forgot, I'm going to be a father.”

Hannibal's eyes darted away, concealing the dark look of hatred brewing deep inside.

“I have duties. To the FBI, and now to this child.” Will said, rising from the edge of the bed.

“You must go now?” Hannibal asked.

“I shouldn't stay.”

“I want you to stay.”

“I just broke up with you. Why would you want me to stay?”

“We left your car at my office, remember?”

Will sighed, and scraped a hand through his hair. “Right.”

Hannibal rolled over, letting the ice pack fall off of him. He winced as his skin came into contact with the sheets, but smoothed it over with a smile. He held his hand out to Will.

Will regarded Hannibal's out stretched hand with waning confidence. It had started just like this, with an out stretched hand; a deal with the Devil for one night of pleasure. If he kept taking that hand, he would never be free, but he had nowhere to go tonight. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide where Hannibal wouldn't find him.

Will reached out with trembling, uncertain fingertips and joined their hands. Hannibal's fingers latched around his, pulling him closer to the bed. Will took a stumbling step forward, biting at his lower lip as Hannibal's hand surrounded his hip.

“Lay beside me.” Hannibal whispered, “I'll be honest with you now, Will. That's all I wanted out of tonight.”

Will swallowed hard, and looked away from the look of pleading honesty in Hannibal's eyes. His chest was raw from the gamut of emotions pushed through his veins in the space of a few hours; the defenses he had built up crumbling to dust, felled by one look of desperation in Hannibal's eyes.

He sank to the sheets, pulling Hannibal down with him. He buried his face in Hannibal's neck, hiding the final emotion that crushed through the aortas of his heart.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Will startled awake to the sound of his cellphone ringing from across the room. The bedroom was still dark, only the moonlight slanting through the curtains to illuminate the dark shadows and colors of Hannibal's bed.

Blinking against sleep that begged to drag him back to dreamworld, he shifted up onto his elbows and scanned the room for his phone. He located his pants, lying in a heap, on the other side of the bed, the pocket lighting up from the inside.

Will let out a heavy sigh and sat up to throw the covers back. Hannibal was lying next to him, undisturbed by the shrill ring tone. Will eased out of the bed, and tip-toed across the room to get the cellphone. Plucking the phone from his pants pocket, he darted out of the room and answered the phone as he making his way down the dark hallway.

“Hello?”

“Will, it's Jack.”

“Jack, it's five o'clock in the morning-”

“I need you to get dressed and get out here.” Jack said, his tone solemn and fully alert despite the early hour.

“Get out where?” Will asked.

“The graveyard.”

Will paused in the entrance way of the kitchen, his hand supporting himself on the door frame. A cold shiver worked it's way down his spine. He glanced almost involuntarily over his shoulder toward the bedroom where Hannibal lay asleep.

“What's happened?”

“Freddie Lounds's grave was dug up tonight.” Jack said, “I want you to come out and look at it.”

“Okay, I'll get dressed.” Will whispered.

“Okay.”

The line disconnected, and Will stood in the kitchen, staring into the darkness. In his mind, he tried to rationalize what this meant. Trying to tell himself Hannibal hadn't had enough time to sneak out and dig up the grave. Trying to tell himself he would have heard something.

He walked back down the hallway, and slipped into the room to find his clothing. Searching with the light from his phone's screen, he located his pants, and shirt. He swore softly when he stubbed his toe against the dresser in the hunt for his boxers, which seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

“Will?”

Will's head jerked up to the sound of Hannibal's drowsy voice coming from the bed.

“Sorry.” Will whispered, “Jack called.”

He approached the bed with his clothes balled up in his arms. Hannibal sat up, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What time is it?”

“Almost five o'clock.”

“What is so urgent?”

“It seems someone has dug up Freddie Lounds's grave.”

There was a pause before Hannibal reached over and turned the lamp on. Bright, yellow light cast illumination across the room, and Will squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light. Hannibal gazed up at him with a casual smile.

“Please,” He said, motioning to the room, “Don't injure yourself stumbling around in the dark to find your clothing.”

Will flashed a dour smile, and resumed his hunt for his boxers.

“You don't seem concerned by this development.” Hannibal remarked.

Will paused from looking under the bed to cast Hannibal a sharp gaze across the bedspread. “That's because I already know what happened. I don't have to go out and look at the graveyard to know who dug her up.”

Hannibal lounged against the pillows, a sly smile settling across his face. “Then why are you?”

“Because Jack asked me to and – ah!” Will found his boxers balled up next to the bed post, and rose to his feet with them clutched in his hand, “I was starting to think you hid them on purpose.”

“I'm not liable for what I do in the midst of passionate heat.”

Will laid his clothes over the edge of the bed and climbed into his boxers. He could feel Hannibal's gaze on him, but ignored the flare of heat and enjoyment that surged through his body under that predatory and needy perusal.

“Would you like me to take you to pick up your car?” Hannibal asked.

“Damn, I forgot.” Will groused, snatching his pants from the bed. He balanced on one foot as he stepped into pants. “I guess so, if you don't mind.”

“I don't.”

“I thought you might want to catch up on your sleep.” Will said with a shrug, “You know, since you've been up all night.”

“I can go without sleep.” Hannibal said, “You cannot go to the crime scene in my car. Wouldn't want Jack to know what you do with your free time. And mine.”

Will ignored the jab, and focused on dressing. He stuffed his shirt tails into his pants, and zipped up with a jerk of his hand.

“Come on,” He said, waving for Hannibal to get out of the bed, “Jack would prefer I get there sooner rather than later.”

Hannibal tossed the sheets aside and rose from the bed. Will's eyes widened when he saw a full erection rising from between his legs. Hannibal was unperturbed as he pulled clothes from the closet, but Will choked.

“You can calm down. I'm leaving, and not coming back.”

Hannibal cast a smirk over his shoulder at Will. “I told you, I'm not liable for what happens, especially when you are dressing in front of me.”

“Just hurry up.”

Will ducked out of the room and marched to the front of the house to collect his shoes and coat that he'd left by the door. Hannibal joined him a few minutes later, dressed to the nines despite the early hour. He plucked his coat from the floor and swung it over his shoulders. He pulled the front door open, motioning for Will to go ahead of him.

They stepped out into the early morning chill where just the first hints of pale light began to illuminate the sky. The stars shone brilliant against the shades of blue and purple, serenity looking down on Will's indecision and dread.

In the car, Hannibal turned the radio on to soft tunes of Chopin while Will fixed his gaze out the window. Snow and shadows sped by, vast beyond comparison to the one car driving down the road in the early hours of the morning. The world felt huge and undisturbed, but Will's fears swelled like balloon in his brain, ready to burst. He wished he could escape into the serendipitous landscape beyond, where the problems of the world didn't matter.

“Perhaps you will change your mind, after tonight.” Hannibal said.

Will's gaze from the window, but avoided Hannibal. “I don't think so.”

“How can you say so? The night is not over yet. You haven't seen everything.”

“I've seen everything I need to see.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

This remark drew Will's gaze to Hannibal's. Their eyes connected in the dim, blue light of the dashboard.

“Yes.” Will said, “I'm not leaving you entirely. I just … I don't think a sexual relationship is good for us.”

“Why come and see and interact with what you can't have if you don't intend on taking advantage?”

“You're my friend.” Will whispered, “Didn't you say I would always be yours?”

“Yes. I care about you very much, Will.”

“I want us to be friends.” Will said, “But that's it.”

“You think being friends with me is less dangerous than being my lover?”

“Yes. I think you would agree, considering what I did to you tonight.”

“You mean with the belt.”

Will swallowed hard against a surge of vibrant memory. He closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“I've told you many times, pain is not something I fear or dread.”

“It's not healthy.”

“Many people enjoy relationships that incorporate the elements we have investigated, and have a healthy, long-lasting relationship.”

“It's not a game.” Will said, “Not to us. It's a game to other people, Hannibal. Playing roles, putting on masks. _Pretending._ We're not pretending, are we?”

“No.”

“When I threw you down on the bed and thought about you biting into the pillow when I hit you with the belt, it wasn't just because I view punishment as a fetish. It was because I really wanted to hurt you.”

“Hurting me feels good because I've done bad things to you.”

“Yes.”

“It exorcises the hatred from your body.”

“Yes.”

“Freeing yourself of those demoralizing emotions is not healthy?”

Will pursed his lips, and shook his head.

“No, it's not healthy?”

“It could be … I don't know- … I just know that relationships that encourage abuse aren't.”

“I don't consider it abuse. I fully consented to your desires. I encouraged them. Did you ever hear me say 'no'? Did I ever tell you 'please, stop'?”

“No.” Will whispered.

“Then we have participated in fully consensual, if not unconventional, sex.”

Silence settled over the car. Will breathed and thought and rationalized for long moments, before swallowing back the doubt.

“You won't convince me.” He said.

“I support you making your own decisions.” Hannibal said, “But I think you are making the wrong one.”

“Because your dick says so?”

Hannibal's nostrils flared. “Because I care deeply about you.”

“You're my friend, Hannibal. I don't want to see that go away because we made the wrong decision in sleeping together. I hope you can accept that and move on.”

Hannibal brought the car to a stop at the curb. His office sat dark and solemn above them in the falling snow. That office was the place it had all started, and as Will stepped out of the car, he silently cursed the building as if it had an active part in his own flawed decision making.

“Will,” Hannibal said.

Will paused outside the car. “What?”

“I want you to think deeply about what you see tonight at the graveyard.” Hannibal said, “I want you to think about the decisions you've made, and your darkest desires. Evaluate what's important in your life, and the people in it. I think you will realize which decision was the wrong one in regards to our relationship. We can discuss it in our next therapy session.”

Will gave a brief nod and slammed the door shut behind him. He trudged through the layer of snow to his car, refusing to look back. He was afraid to see his demons on his heels, ready to drag him back into the Devil's arms.

 

~

 

Will wasn't religious, only intrigued by religion itself. As an elective in college, he took a class that briefly studied religions by countries. Western philosophies had never gotten his attention as firmly as those of the old, Eastern world. There was something brutal and realistic about these religions despite the fantastical elements of the many gods that had been served since the dawn of civilization. Life and death, reward and punishment, were simple and unchanging under the direction of ancient gods. There was no room for questioning a command, no ambiguity.

When Will entered the graveyard to see the two corpses bound together and displayed, he understood without doubt the symbolism of this tableaux. Destruction and creation were one in the familiar gesticulation of India's god Shiva.

This was a gift; and a warning.

He didn't try to assuage Alana's fears as she and Jack pieced the details of the scene together. He felt numb, but not cold; the numbness he felt now was a warm, weightless sensation, like water in the open sea.

He walked away from the graveyard, his head fuzzy and unfocused. The world took on a one-dimensional plane; he was just an actor on a stage, and his world was the platform he performed upon. It held no depth and feeling because it wasn't real. It was all an elaborate illusion – only he couldn't be sure which part he was acting. The valiant, undercover FBI agent, or the longing, blossoming killer who flourished under Hannibal's tutelage.

Will went through the motions of work for the rest of the day, but his mind was elsewhere. Hannibal had told him to consider his decisions and desires. Will considered what he had to gain or lose while his mind drifted far from his body, and came to no reasonable conclusion by the time he drove home that evening.

He busied himself cooking dinner, feeding the dogs, letting the dogs out, and working on the fishing lures at his work bench.

It was late evening when he looked up from his lures, his eyes burning from concentration. A sound from outdoors attracted his attention. He squinted out the window into the darkness, seeing shapes in the shadows that he knew were illusions.

A wounded howl and a snap of twigs jolted him into motion. He grabbed his shotgun and shoved the front door out of his way in a hurry to look after the injured animal he heard. He stepped out onto the front porch where the light over the door cast scarce, yellowed light across the freshly fallen snow. The yard was empty except for the beckoning fingers of bare trees and the encroaching shadows of the forest.

He called out each of his dog's names, struggling to recall if he had let them back inside. He was certain he had, yet the wounded squeal was familiar in a bone-chilling way. There was no patter of feet, no answering bark.

Will marched down the porch steps, the shotgun clutched in both sweaty palms. He brought the stock to his shoulder, and pressed his cheek to the cold, metal of the barrel. Movement from the shadows jarred him into motion across the crisp snow, leaving messy footprints in his wake. He cocked the gun as he reached the edge of the woods. Whipping the barrel back and forth, he scanned the thick, inky blackness for the intruder.

His breath created clouds in the air before him as he breathed through several tense moments. The woods stood silent before him, too silent. Not even the shift of nocturnal creatures, or a sigh of wind.

From the shadows, long, slender fingers reached for the barrel of the shotgun. Will stood frozen as the black fingers curled around the end of the shotgun and pushed the barrel down to point at the ground. A twig snapped underfoot as the creature emerged from the shadows, tall and magnificent with it's pronged antlers and midnight black flesh.

Will gasped in a breath, and dropped the shotgun to the ground. He stood before his nightmare, face-to-face. He looked into it's eyes, and saw his reflection shining there in the cold, black depths.

It reached for him, graceful fingers unfurling through the cold, winter air to caress his cheek. The stroke of those fingers was like snakes slithering across his skin, but Will could not move an inch. The Wendigo advanced, fingers sliding across Will's cheek and behind his head to lace into his hair at the nape. Cold and heat shot from the creatures fingers into Will's skin simultaneously, stretching Will's mouth open wide in a mute scream. His back arched, and he stood suspended there on his toes as the creature placed it's other hand over his chest, over his pounding heart.

“Don't be afraid.” It whispered, voice like honey and poison cascading down Will's ears.

It had never spoken to him before. Within he was screaming, but only the faintest whimper escaped his lips.

“Don't be afraid.” It repeated, “Don't you want to live forever?”

Will jarred awake, grabbing onto the edge of the workbench to stop himself from tumbling out of his chair.

It took him several disoriented moments to realize he had fallen asleep over the unfinished lures. His jaw was sore from resting against the table, and a small pool of saliva indicated he'd been asleep; it was only a dream. Only a fucking nightmare.

Will scrubbed his eyes, and gave his head a shake to clear the cobwebs. The voice of the Wendigo echoed through his head, holding a note of familiarity that was otherwise distorted by a hiss like a man possessed.

Will rose from the workbench, and stood over the living room where all of his dogs slept, safe and sound. His little family of strays was in indoors, far away from the clutches of evil. He could protect them, but not much else.

On the workbench, his cell phone began to ring. Will glanced down to see the caller ID. Hannibal. He let it go to voice mail, and watched as the notification that Hannibal had left him a message pop up a minute later.

He turned the phone off, and went to bed with the nightmare clinging to his brain.

 

~

 

Will avoided mention of their sexual relationship during their next therapy session. He'd spent time that week thinking about what was important. He thought about Abigail. He thought about the FBI.

These were the only two things holding him back from forsaking any logic and diving into a relationship with Hannibal. He had to remember Abigail; he had to respect her and his love for her. He had to remember Hannibal had taken that away.

Before Will could leave the office, Hannibal said, “I trust you've seen my messages, but haven't taken the time to call me back.”

“I've seen them.”

“That's very rude of you.”

“If I had wanted to talk to you before today's session, I would have picked up the phone.”

“You said we are friends, but it seems we are no longer even that. We are now patient and psychiatrist again.”

Will ignored the disguised look of hurt in Hannibal's eyes. He put on his coat, and reached for the door handle.

“We're still friends.” He said, “I just need some space.”

“Usually that's what people say when they want to let someone down easy.”

“You're not … affected by this?” Will asked, “By a break up?”

“I've spent a lot of time trying to get closer to you, Will. I've felt the sting of your rejection before. The burn of it is soothed by the fact that, at the very least, you are no longer trying to kill me.”

Will sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Will, allow me to cook for you.” Hannibal said, “Being my good friend comes with the privilege of private entertainment at my table, and I'd like to maintain you as one of the few who gets that privilege.”

“Okay.” Will said, “But I'm leaving after dinner.”

“Of course.”

“Tonight, then? Six o'clock?”

Will nodded.

“I look forward to the evening, then.”

 

~

 

Hannibal's meticulous dinner preparations were consistent every day, but that evening as he prepared the food for he and Will's evening, he put extra consideration into cooking. Being in the kitchen had a calming affect on him, his own sort of therapy outside the office, but his focus tonight was out of concern rather than total relaxation in his practiced movements.

He and Will walked a fine line, one that he had perhaps underestimated. His confidence that he could manipulate Will into his arms, and later into accepting his homicidal urges, waned in the face of Will's new found determination. There was no time to question whether Hannibal had pushed to far, or given too much. Only the future lay ahead; their future.

Hannibal kept this reminder at the forefront of his mind as the clock approached six. Will required delicate handling tonight, not because he would break, but because he could close up like a steel trap around Hannibal's probing touch.

The doorbell rang ten minutes before six. Hannibal walked to the front door wiping his hands on his apron, and opened the door. Will fidgeted on the front step, one hand balled up in his pocket, the other scratching at the back of his neck.

“Will, please, come in.” Hannibal said, opening the door wide to admit him.

Will stepped across the threshold, giving Hannibal a terse smile as he passed. Hannibal drew in a breath in his wake, smelling that awful aftershave and shampoo. A smile touched his lips when he realized even the offensive smell of the aftershave was a pleasant scent to him for the simple reason that it was a recognizable association to Will.

“Dinner is almost ready.” Hannibal said, “You can go to the dining room, if you like.”

“Okay.” Will said.

Hannibal stepped back into the kitchen just as the timer on the oven went off. He pulled the pan out, split the food onto two plates, and added the last garnishes before carrying the plates out to the dining room.

Will had already poured himself a generous glass of wine. Sipping on the glass, he gazed in utter concentration down into the red liquid.

Hannibal set a plate before him, and took his own plate to the other side of the table. He kept a gaze on Will as he poured himself a glass of wine, and began to eat. He was aware Will was watching him, too, though not as closely. He was playing hard to get, but Hannibal had expected this tactic. Will thought if he didn't say anything, Hannibal couldn't read him. He didn't know how wrong he was.

They ate in complete silence for ten minutes before Will cleared his throat.

“This is good. Thank you.” He said.

“You're welcome. The real treat is having you here with me.”

Will's eyes darted back to his plate. He took a bite of meat and chewed. His hands were curled around fork and knife, knuckles going pale with the pressure.

“Will,” Hannibal said.

He set his fork and knife down, and stared at Will until Will looked up. Will paused from cutting into meat, his eyes wide and blinking like a cornered animal.

“What?”

“I didn't ask you here to tonight so that he we could sit here ignoring each other.” Hannibal said, “You said we're still friends; I'm trying to show you that that rings true for me.”

“I'm sorry.” Will said, “It's just … strange. When I look at you, I can't forget what's happened between us.”

“I'm not asking you to forget.”

“Then it's going to continue to be strange.”

“I'm asking you to accept what happened, and move on.”

“I'm not in denial that it happened.”

“I'm asking you to accept that it was real.”

Will sighed, and set his fork and knife down with a clank against the china.

“Am I to gather from that response that you don't agree with me that it was real?”

“It was as real as real can get.” Will said, “I don't know what you want me to say.”

“Will, I've been your friend for awhile now, your therapist even longer. I understand you; I understand your defense mechanisms.”

“I'm shutting you out. Is that what you think?”

“You are. I don't have to think anything for it to be true.”

“I can't just forget that we … that we were … that we slept together. Those images and memories are going to be in my head forever. If you've forgotten, my mind doesn't let those kinds of experiences fade.”

“Nor does mine.”

“The difference is you don't want it to be over.” Will said, his voice descending into a whisper, “You want to hold onto those memories because you might not have the real thing ever again.”

“Why do you buck against your natural desires?” Hannibal asked, “Why do you question something that was more real and more satisfying than anything else you've ever experienced? You'll never feel that way again if you walk away now, and you will regret it for the rest of your life.”

“What we want, and what's right aren't always the same thing. I think we've had this discussion before.”

“Apparently, we still disagree.”

“Alana was right.” Will murmured, “We're not good for each other.”

“Alana has no place in this relationship.”

“She does if you're still fucking her.”

Hannibal pursed his lips. Will's stubbornness was not something he would put up with from anyone else, but he couldn't walk away.

“So, my loyalty to you is the issue?”

Will sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face. “No ...”

“Then why do you bring Alana into it?”

“Look, I know you don't really care about her.” Will said, “Just don't hurt her, okay?”

“I truly value Alana's friendship.” Hannibal said, “And I have no interest in hurting her. If she chooses to leave, she can go without my objection. Until then, I will continue to value her company, and her insight.”

“But you don't feel about her the way you feel about me … do you?”

Will's gaze met Hannibal's across the table, their vast, blue depths holding Hannibal a demanding grip. Hannibal swallowed back an elaborate response that wouldn't truly answer the question; he had to be honest with Will now if he meant to get him back.

“No.” He whispered.

Will nodded in a slow, thoughtful rhythm. “You're never going to let go of that, are you?”

Hannibal drew in a shallow breath as he felt the space around them compress with tension.

“No.” He repeated.

“What are you willing to do to get me back?”

“What is it you want me to do?”

Will nibbled at his lower lip, and looked away. His eyes focused on the wall, but the flush on his cheeks betrayed his emotions.

“Will,” Hannibal said, “What do you want?”

Will rose from the table in an abrupt burst of motion. He tossed his napkin on the table, and pushed the chair in.

“All the things I want, you can't give me.” He said, his voice trembling, “And all the things you want, I can't give you. It doesn't work, Hannibal. It never will. I think we should let it go, for both out sake's.”

He strode out of the dining room, and it took Hannibal a few shocked moments to force himself into motion. Kicking his chair back, he followed Will at a long stride, catching up with him just as Will put his hand on the front door.

“Will,” He said, catching Will's arm in careful grasp.

Will turned, his eyes downcast and shimmering.

“You didn't finish your dinner.” Hannibal said, “You should come back and finish eating. I can't let you go hungry.”

“I'm not hungry anymore.” Will whispered, “Please, just let me go.”

“Will,” Hannibal said, struggling to maintain a dignified tone, “Stay, and finish your dinner. I won't make you speak of this again.”

Will twisted his arm out of Hannibal's grip, his eyes flashing. “I said, let me go.”

Hannibal took a step back. His chest trembled, full of a building storm that threatened to break free in destructive violence. For days, he'd thought of nothing but their interactions behind his bedroom door; nothing but the sweet, burning pain Will inflicted on his skin. Now, despite his best efforts, he could think of nothing but turning those punishments back on Will.

“No one can give you what I've given you.” Hannibal said, “You've spent your life running from your emotions and the people who exacerbate your empathy. I've given you a safe place, Will. I've let you feel, without shame or expectation of anything in return, the darkest desires you've always kept buried. If you walk out that door, you'll be letting all of that go.”

Will lowered his head, eyes pressed shut underneath his fingertips. The internal battle waged between his conscience and his desires worked a tremor through his body and into the taut clutch of his shoulders. His fingers curled around the door knob until the knuckles turned white.

Hannibal put a hand on his shoulder, and gently turned him around. Will's head stayed down as Hannibal cradled his cheek in a warm, stroking grasp.

“All your life, you've felt like you needed to hide your true identity from the world, from the people that you've loved. Because of the darkness inside you, the world has been robbed of your unique and powerful beauty, Will. Only I have seen with wonder the true nature of your becoming; only I have excepted you for who you are.”

Will looked up from beneath his eyelashes, a blush warm on the resisting clench of his jaw. His nostrils flared over a sharp breath as Hannibal leaned in to nudge a soft kiss against his lips. Their mouths grazed, barely constituting a kiss, but Will leaned heavily against the door, weak with need.

“I can't ...” He whispered, turning his face away from Hannibal's.

Hannibal shifted closer, catching Will's face between both of his hands. He turned Will's face toward him so that even the shift of Will's eyes couldn't fully avoid Hannibal's gaze.

“You can.” Hannibal murmured, “Will, you can because what you have experienced with me in the privacy of this house is the only thing that has come remotely close to comparing to the power you feel when you take a life.”

Will blinked hard, and sucked in a shallow breath. “N-no, no ...”

“Restraining me, hurting me … It's as close as you can get to spilling my blood.”

“I don't want to-”

“You told me you weren't in denial, Will; don't lie to me now. Tell me, Will. Say it.”

Will struggled to wrench his face from Hannibal's grasp, but Hannibal pushed him back against the door, his knee pressing between Will's thighs to pin him in place. Will's fingers snagged on Hannibal's jacket, both pushing him away and pulling him in.

“Tell me what you want, Will.” Hannibal whispered, lips brushing hot against Will's jaw, “Tell me what fantasies grow themselves in your mind in the darkest hours of the night.”

Will growled, and shoved with his hands on Hannibal's chest until they broke apart. Hannibal took a few staggering steps back, finding his balance just as Will pushed off the door and marched toward him. Will caught him by the jaw, nails digging into his skin, breath hot across Hannibal's cheeks.

“What I want, is for you to pay.” Will hissed, “For Abigail, for framing me, for all the people who have suffered because of you. What I want, is to hurt you. I want to hurt you, and keep hurting you until you are nothing more than a pathetic, whimpering carcass at my feet. What I want … is never going to happen.”

Will released Hannibal's with a shove, and only then did Hannibal breathe again. He braced himself against the wall as Will marched back to the door and yanked it open.

“I'm going now.” Will said, his voice cold and flat, “I'm going, and you won't stop me.”

He pulled the front door open and stepped out into the shadows of the night. The door swung shut behind him, leaving Hannibal standing alone in the entrance way.

He gazed briefly at the space Will had recently occupied. A smile touched his lips. He had moved all of the pieces into place with Mason Verger without foreknowledge of tonight's failure, but now, he was quite certain he'd made the right choice in letting Mason destroy the child growing in Margot's womb.

 

 

~

Will took a cold shower when he got home, but the water couldn't wash away the shame writhing through his brain. He'd meant to break things off with Hannibal for good; instead, he'd revealed that he wanted Hannibal more than ever. Their exchange at the door didn't represent normal standards of flirting; to them, it would forever be a signpost in their relationship, a point where everything changed.

After he got out of the shower, Will made a sandwich. Despite what he'd said, he was still hungry. He sat on the couch with Winston's head on his lap, and ate the sandwich in utter silence, without tasting a bite.

A desperate need to reassure himself of his priorities overwhelmed him.

He pulled out the phone book, found the number for the Verger estate, and was directed to Margot by a secretary.

“Hello?”

“Margot, hello. It's Will Graham.”

There was a buzz of silence over the line, but Will could hear her annoyance. He nearly hung up before she replied, “Hello, Will. Why are you calling me?”

“I wanted to talk to you privately about the … the, um, baby.”

“What about it?”

“When you told Dr. Lecter and I about the pregnancy, you said you weren't opposed to a male influence in the child's life.”

“You want to be a father to this child?”

“Yes, as much as I can be without intruding into your life. I know you were using me, but I do have a right to be somewhat of a parent.”

Static hissed over the line, and Will could hear rustling, as if Margot were moving rapidly. He frowned. “Margot?”

“I heard you. You shouldn't be calling here. We should talk later, on a different line.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I can't talk now.”

The line clicked, and she was gone.

Will held the phone away from his ear, frowning in confusion and growing concern at the phone. He didn't have to possess an empathy disorder to know that something was wrong. Margot wasn't just annoyed by his phone call; she was afraid.

 

~

 

The phone call came early the next morning, just before Will was about to pull into the parking lot in Quantico. Without second thought, he turned the car around and drove past the FBI Headquarters to the private care facility the doctor on the phone had told him Margot was staying.

The room was lavishly furnished with a couch and chair, and bathroom the size of Will's living room at home, and even a mini fridge in the corner. It looked like an expensive hotel room except for the hospital bed in one corner.

Will stood over Margot's sleep form with a strand of anger curling through his chest. The rage he felt was neither hot nor reckless, but so strong and gripping that it turned cold, numb, and utterly calm. Everything else faded away, leaving his mind empty and frozen except for the single thought of revenge.

Will looked up from Margot's bed when Hannibal stepped into the room. His expression bore concern as he joined Will at the end of the bed, but Will could sense the layer of satisfaction rippling just beneath the surface.

Will turned and marched out of the room, unable to look into Hannibal's eyes without revealing his hand. The death of his child was breaking point; if he had been considering abandoning his goal of imprisoning Hannibal for his crimes before, that thought was gone, destroyed. Hannibal had made sure of that.

Will stood in the hallway, breathing deeply for several moments before the door to Margot's room opened. Hannibal stepped out into the hallway, his gaze searching Will's.

“Did the doctors tell you how she's doing?” Hannibal asked.

“She'll be fine, if you don't count the emotional trauma of having your unborn child ripped from your womb.” Will ground out.

“What Mason has done is unspeakable.” Hannibal said.

Will rubbed a hand over his face.

“I know.” He whispered.

“A person as evil as Mason should pay dearly for-”

“I know it was you.” Will said, cutting a scathing glare to Hannibal.

Hannibal paused, a frown creasing his brow.

“How would Mason have known that Margot was pregnant?” Will said, throwing up his hands, “I didn't tell him, and Margot certainly didn't. You are the only other person who knew.”

“The child is gone.” Hannibal said, holding a soothing hand, “That fact cannot be altered or reversed. What we must do now and make certain that Margot's future and financial situation is secured.”

“You don't care about her.” Will said, giving a mirthless laugh, “Don't act like you do.”

“She is my patient. Of course I care for her well being.”

“You only care about yourself.”

“I can see that you're upset.” Hannibal said, holding up a hand in resignation, “I'll go.”

“I'm not upset.” Will said, “No, for the first time in a long time, I'm calm.”

Hannibal cocked his head. “Calm?”

“Yes. Completely, utterly calm.”

Hannibal regarded him with a calculated gaze. Will thought he might pressure for more, but he said, “I must go. I have an appointment with a patient. I'll see you in therapy, Will.”

He turned and walked down the hallway at a leisurely gait.

Will slipped back into Margot's room. Pulling a chair up next to the bed, he sat down, and took her limp hand in his. She wouldn't have allowed it were she awake, he realized, but this secret moment of mourning was the last he would give to weakness and pity.

His hope for a domestic future with a child of his own was gone. That tiny, scintillating speck of good far away down the dark tunnel of his life had disappeared in the blink of an eye, and along with it, his determination to escape Hannibal's clutches. Saving himself was no longer his biggest priority; if he went down with this ship, he would die happy knowing that he'd stopped Hannibal once and for all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part three coming next week :) 
> 
> Join me on [tumblr](http://relentless-fire.tumblr.com/)  
> 


End file.
